Would You Stay
by izzy288
Summary: Eloise (Lou) is determined to make her mark in the culinary world, but her life takes an unexpected turn when she meets Sidney Crosby.
1. Chapter 1

"I need three chops all day, and one duck breast. How long?" I shout down the line. It's Saturday night and the kitchen is buzzing.

"Six minutes Chef!" comes the reply in unison. The sound of knives working quickly, meat searing, and sauces simmering gets my adrenaline pumping. The pressure of the line is invigorating, and I love the fact that it's mine. My menu, my staff, my kitchen...not my restaurant, but it's my food and that's all matters. The guests come here because of the dishes I put out, and the owners love that we're booked solid until April when it's not even December.

"Eight top of VIPs," Mark, the front of house manager calls from the other side of the pass. I quickly grab the menu ticket and scan the order. There's a lot of food for eight people, but that's pretty typical of a VIP table. They probably know most of it will be comped. "Everyone loves the chops, Lou."

"Yeah," I laugh, "that's all we're selling. What about pushing the snapper?"

"Hey, if they want to order a fifty seven dollar entree, I'm not going to try persuade them to consider a thirty dollar plate of fish."

"Thirty six dollars," I correct him, but he has a point. I put the finishing seasoning on four plates and send them out of the kitchen.

"Vee eye peeeeeeeees!" Victor, an enthusiastic line cook starts a bizarre erotic dance with exaggerated pelvic thrusts. "These ladies gonna be beggin' to meet me when they taste my food," he brags.

"Your food?" I ask.

"It's eight men Vic," Mark tells him with a smirk.

"All yours Lou," he waves away his imaginary dream girl and returns his focus to the stove. It's a rare moment when the guys acknowledge that I'm a warm-blooded woman. Kitchens are notorious boys clubs, and women have to work twice as hard to get noticed, and even harder to be taken seriously. My parents were less than thrilled when I dropped out of college to go to culinary school, but that's not unique to me. Every chef I've worked for had the same reaction from their parents.

Dinner service is hectic, hot, and above all, completely exhausting. All the mains have gone out, most of the desserts, but there's a cluster of tables that just keep ordering food. It's frustrating for a staff that's dehydrated and looking for a reprieve. "What going on out there?" I hiss at a server when she brings in another dessert ticket.

"The eight top are Penguins," she explains and it all makes sense. When the athletes come in they wine and dine, taking their time with the food, but it's the tables surrounding them that refuse to clear out. Eight hockey players makes for dinner and a show for the other guests and I know we're in for a long night.

"I hate VIPs," I grumble.

"Usually means good tips," the waitress says brightly.

"Usually means they stiff on the bill though," I don't even try to disguise my annoyance.

"Trust me Lou, it pays to comp that table in the long run," somehow Mark manages to hear every word.

It's a long night, but thankfully Mark takes pity on us and informs the patrons the kitchen is closing, giving us a flood of easily-managed dessert tickets and the opportunity to start breaking down the other stations.

"Chef?" Mark is calling me Chef, something is definitely up.

"Yes?" I eye him suspiciously.

"Up for a meet and greet?" he's practically begging, or as close to begging as Mark gets.

"Ugh, it's been such a long night," I groan, careful not to whine. Whining doesn't go over well in the kitchen. Groaning is complaining though, so it's completely acceptable.

"Come on," he waves me toward the door and I reluctantly follow. Just before we walk out he hands me a tissue and I wipe my face, undo the loose braid and run my hands through my hair, change into a fresh chef's coat and present myself to Mark for a quick once-over.

"Hot," he teases and I can't help but burst out laughing. We walk through the nearly empty dining room and make our way over to the long table in the back. I know exactly what I'm walking into. Eight drunken pro-athletes who would have been just as happy with Big Macs. Meeting patrons used to make me nervous, but not so much anymore. I'm so fried from the long night I can't even muster the energy to get nervous anyway. _Hello!_ Talk about gorgeous! I glance around the table and to my surprise the eight pains in my ass have turned out to be eight crazy good-looking guys. "Gentlemen, Chef Eloise."

"Hello," I nod and smile brightly.

"Best steak I've ever had," one guy shouts across the table.

"I'm glad you enjoyed it," I reply in the friendliest tone I can manage.

"No really," he continues, and I can't help but giggle at his inebriated gushing. "We ate at that place, what's that place called?" he scans the table for help, but none comes. "You know, that fancy place in New York," he continues, "Costas...Coasters..."

"Costata," I chime in.

"Yeah, you know it?" he's adorably drunk and so excited I can't help but play along.

"I do."

"Yours is better," he moves to stand, but his teammate puts a hand on his shoulder and guides him back to his seat.

"Sorry about him," his friend rolls his eyes and I wave it off quickly.

"Looks like he was over-served," I tease, but catch myself before I go any further. Making fun of guests for being drunk is a surefire way to lose customers. The joke lands well though, and his buddy flashes me a brilliant smile and the table laughs along.

"Don't worry, he's driving," the drunken diner wraps his arm around his friend and I can tell the attention is embarrassing him a little bit. _He's so hot though, he should be used to being stared at_. I shake away the inappropriate thought and return my attention to the rest of the table.

"Trade you season tickets for your rub recipe?" another guy offers cheekily. I give him a lopsided grin and shake my head.

"I've passed up more than that," I tell him, and it sounds like a joke, but it's actually the truth.

"You should bottle that stuff," the handsome designated driver says seriously.

"Maybe I will," I shrug. "Thanks for coming in guys, I'm glad you enjoyed your meal."

"Of course we're happy to cover the tab," Mark chimes in and I start to sneak away. I think I've almost gotten away with it when I hear the dreaded callback. "Lou!" _Ugh_. I turn back and Mark waves me over to the table. "Our guest would like a photo with the Chef," he says warmly, and I can tell he's enjoying putting me through this torture.

"Absolutely," I reply through gritted teeth. _Of course_. It's the young lush, and he's fumbling with his phone. He hands it off to his handsome teammate and I feel my cheeks redden with embarrassment. I move to stand next to my biggest fan, and he quickly wraps his arms around me resting his chin on my shoulder.

"Hey man, probably not a good idea," and I'm relieved his friend has the presence of mind to consider that I might not want to be groped. I straighten my posture and slap on a phony smile, and it's over in seconds. "Sorry about him," he whispers as he moves past me to hand the phone back.

"No problem," I assure him.

"I don't think he's used to drinking this much," he laughs.

"Thank you Lou," Mark says evenly, effectively giving me permission to leave.

"Why do they call you Lou?" comes the slurred question a little too loudly and much to close for my liking.

"Short for Eloise," his teammate explains and I turn to him in disbelief. "That's right, isn't it?"

"Yeah," I'm stunned that he paid close enough attention, it's loud in here, he's babysitting a drunk, and still he managed to catch my name.

"That's cute," and I feel a familiar pair of arms wrap around my shoulders.

"Okay then," I slink out of the offending embrace and double time it back to the kitchen. If I'm not mistaken I can hear someone scolding him as I dash through the dining room. The kitchen is quiet, and I can tell everyone is exhausted from the long night. "Okay guys, let's clean up and get out of here."

My apartment feels too big for me, and I blame it on the fact that I haven't finished unpacking. I've lived here for over a year, so chances are I can live without whatever is in the stack of boxes, but unpacking completely would mean that I've moved in, and I still haven't decided if Pittsburgh is the place for me. It seems too easy, making a name for myself in Pittsburgh when everyone knows New York is the true test.

I wander into the kitchen and start pulling ingredients out of the fridge. Butter on bread, bread in the pan, add two slices of smoked cheddar and melt. Just as the cheese starts to ooze down the side, top with tomato, avocado and a slice of buttered bread. Pat twice, then flip. That's how you make the perfect late-night, early-morning sandwich. I cut it in half, grab a glass of ice water and start working my way through my DVR. Some people would die if anyone read their diary, but not me. My dirty secrets are all recorded on my precious lifeline to the outside world. _Dr. Phil_, _Judge Judy_, reruns of _Gilmore Girls_. It's my little box of guilty pleasures and right now there's nowhere I'd rather be than parked in front of my television.

My phone alarm rings and I realize that I've fallen asleep on the sofa again. _Why do you even have a bedroom?_ It's not like it gets any use, let alone any action. I grab my phone and check the time. 7:12 am. Early, especially after a late night, but it's Sunday and it's a well-kept secret that the best farmers' market around opens in forty eight minutes.

The market is quiet, most vendors still setting up their stands before the mid-morning crowd arrives. I move through the maze of produce, grabbing a few seasonal items that catch my eye. I don't have a list, or a plan, giving me complete freedom to wander around and explore. This particular market sets up in a church parking lot of all places. The neighborhood is full of wealthy families, and being a foodie is currently very chic, meaning if the product is good, the farmer can get a good price for it. I'm surprised no one else has caught on to this, but as of yet, I think I'm the only transplant who drives from the city to check out a suburban market.

"That's a nice cut," I tell the butcher as he sets out a French cut rack of lamb.

"And it can be yours!" he laughs and starts wrapping it up before we even talk price.

"How much?" the words are taken right out of my mouth and I turn to see who's trying to steal this away from me. "Hello Lou."

"Hey," I give the handsome man from last night a puzzled look.

"I thought that was you," he smiles. "I was grabbing a coffee," he points at the shop across the street.

"I didn't catch your name," I try to disguise my surprise.

"Sid."

"You don't know who Sidney Crosby is?" the butcher looks at me incredulously.

"Uh..." I'm taken by surprise and I can feel my cheeks heating up, "I do now!" Sid laughs and I join him.

"Here, for you," the butcher has wrapped and tied the lamb and is practically forcing it into Sid's arms.

"Oh no, I was just kidding," he starts, but the man insists.

"My son will never believe that you came to buy my meat today!" and something about how he says _my meat_ is so suggestive that I can't help but laugh. Sidney is embarrassed. I can tell he doesn't want to take it, but he's out of options.

"Thank you," I tell the butcher and guide Sid away.

"Thanks," Sid calls back as we make our escape. "Uh, do you want this?" he asks me when we're out of earshot.

"Yes!" I snatch it out of his hands and drop it into my half-full grocery bag. "Thank you."

"I feel bad, maybe I should go back and pay for it," he says sheepishly.

"Are you kidding? Didn't you see how excited he was to give you his meat?" I overemphasize the last bit and we both laugh.

"And now I've given it to you," he reminds me, but I can tell he immediately regrets the dirty joke.

"It's okay, I work in a kitchen," I reassure him. Sidney pauses, as if he's about to say something, but changed his mind. "What?" I blurt out before I can stop myself.

"Nothing," he says simply.

"You were about to say something," I venture.

"You don't remember me, do you?" he says shyly.

"Of course I do, you were in the restaurant last night," I laugh, but his shy expression doesn't change.

"No, from before," he presses.

"We've met before?" I can't hide the confusion on my face, and he nods. "Where?"

"Here, near the honey stand. It was maybe three months ago," he says evenly.

"Really?" It's quite possible, but I can't imagine forgetting him. He's very memorable.

"Yep, you were carrying a few bags of peaches when one split open and I helped you pick them up," he's embarrassed but he doesn't stop. "You made a joke about not telling the customers and I asked where you worked."

"I remember that..." _stupid stupid stupid Lou! Look up once in a while!_

"You seemed to be in a hurry," he shrugs.

"I was probably just embarrassed," I admit. There's an awkward pause and I try to come up with something clever to say. "Why didn't you come into the restaurant?" _Because he's not obsessed with you!_ Sometimes I need to just take a minute and think about what I'm about to say before the words fly out of my mouth. I start fantasizing about melting into the sidewalk and disappearing completely when his reply brings me back to the present.

"It was booked solid," he confesses and my heart soars.

"But you could have..." I motion to the butcher and then look at him expectantly.

"I guess I didn't think you'd be impressed with someone who just name-dropped their way into getting a table," he tells me nervously.

"Oh," it's all I can say. It's rare that I'm at a loss for words, but this is one of those times.

"So Lou, short for Eloise, can I buy you a coffee?" he puts himself out there, and if I weren't completely taken with his good looks his charm would have won me over just as easily.

"Sure..." I take a deep breath. "I'd like that, Sid, short for Sidney."


	2. Chapter 2

"You know, I kinda scored you that lamb, so really you should be the one buying coffee." He sounds so serious that I find myself staring up at him in disbelief. It's only when the corner of his mouth twitches that I realize he's putting me on.

"Do you go by Cheapskate or do you prefer Frugal?" I deadpan and he cracks first, laughing freely and blushing slightly. He sighs loudly, taking my elbow in his hand guiding me into the shop first. It's a gentle touch, not even skin on skin, but I'm all tingles anyway. It's been a long time, too long, since I've gone on a date. _Is this a date?_ No, it's coffee. Coffee can be a date though...

"What's the most expensive thing on the menu?" he asks the young guy behind the counter. The Barista huffs and starts reading over the menu board. My stomach turns a bit. I wasn't expecting this. Is he trying to impress me with an expensive drink order?

"You could get the Salted Caramel Mocha with extra shots of espresso," he slumps back to the counter and waits expectantly.

"And that would work out to?" Sid presses him politely.

"I dunno, like seventeen bucks or something." _Wow, let me just drop my panties now_. A seventeen dollar drink and I'm supposed to think of him as a big spender?

"I'll take that," he decides easily. I'm just about to roll my eyes and shake my head when Sid continues. "She's paying." Sid turns and gives me a sneaky grin and leaves me at the counter to grab a table. The young man looks at me expectantly, and I realize I'm supposed to order something too.

"Chai tea?" I stutter. I've underestimated Sid and it's left me stunned.

"Size?" he doesn't even try to hide how inconvenienced he feels having to actually speak to a customer.

"Medium?"

"Grande," he corrects me and I frown. I scan the room and find Sid and shake my head as I make my way over the table. He raises his eyebrows, feigning innocence, but his smile gives him away.

"You're an expensive guy to run into," I laugh.

"I dunno," he considers this carefully. "You're probably still ahead by quite a bit," he motions to my bag of groceries.

"Maybe," I concede. "But you didn't really give me a chance to haggle with him."

"You think he would have given that to you?" Sid challenges.

"I can be pretty persuasive," I say confidently.

"Okay, let's hear it."

"What?" I can feel embarrassment creeping up inside me.

"What would you have said to persuade him?" he doesn't let up one bit.

"Well..." my mind races to think of something clever or maybe flirty, but it lands squarely on practical. "I would have told him how I'm the only customer who can do a piece of meat like this justice." Sid rolls his eyes in disbelief. "I'm serious!" I regain my composure and continue. "This cut in the hands of a wannabe foodie would be criminal!"

"Criminal?" he giggles with surprise.

"Criminal," I say soberly. "My rosemary marinade, with roasted fingerling potatoes, and minted peas..."

"Okay, you win," he raises his hand in surrender. "Minted peas though?"

"Heaven on a plate," I assure him.

"I dunno," he twists his face and reminds me of a kid facing down a plate of brussels sprouts.

"You've never had minted peas?!" I ask incredulously. "Sid, you are seriously missing out!"

"Uhh, I don't think I am," he says cheekily. We laugh and tease, and the early morning passes quickly. The coffee shop has bursts of business, but stays relatively quiet. Sid springs for the second round and we share a planet-sized muffin. "How long have you been in Pittsburgh?"

"Just over a year," the conversation flows easily between us now. "You?"

"Ten years," he grins. "Holy shit it's been ten years." His mind wanders away for a few seconds. "Where did you live before?"

"New York," I say quickly, hoping we can pass over this without too much investigation.

"You know, everyone says it's the greatest city in the world but..." he trails off and presses his lips into a firm line.

"You're unconvinced," I finish for him.

"It's too big," he says flatly.

"Way too big," I agree_._

"And noisy," he continues.

"I like a little bit of quiet too."

"And before New York?" he continues his interrogation.

"I'm from Connecticut, studied in France, trained and worked in New York, and then was invited to open Forks and Knives in Pittsburgh," I rattle off my condensed resume.

"Readers Digest version," he mocks me and nods in approval.

"Okay hot shot, what about you?" I challenge playfully.

"From Nova Scotia, studied in Minnesota, trained in Quebec, and then was drafted to Pittsburgh," he uses my own words against me, and it's kind of adorable. _He's kind of adorable_.

"So when I compulsively Google you tonight, that's all I'll find?" I laugh.

"Well, a few things have happened in between, but basically," he concludes.

"And you've probably already compulsively Googled me so you already know what's out there," I tease, but his cheeks burn red and I'm surprised. "You didn't!"

"Once," he admits. "Just to make sure I had the right restaurant," he says defensively.

"What else did you find?" I'm curious now, and a little nervous. Not that I've had the most interesting existence, and let's be honest, everyone Googles themselves once in a while, but who knows what he's dug up.

"Restaurant reviews, a few interviews..." he trails off, and a wide smile spreads across his face.

"What?"

"A cooking show on YouTube," he laughs.

"Oh my God you didn't!" I cringe with embarrassment. "I was like, eighteen when they filmed that and it was just segments for a local morning show," I try my best to explain, but I want to crawl under my chair and die.

"Good Morning Hartford!" Sid does his best impression of the cheesy host and I can't help but laugh.

"I wish I were dead!" I groan, and I feel his hands pull my fingers away from my face. "Is it as awful as I remember?"

"Well," he considers the question carefully. "I mean, I've had my share of embarrassing commercials."

"Ugh," I drag my hands back to cover my eyes and I can hear him giggling at my expense.

"I should have lied."

"That would have been the polite thing to do!" I snap back.

"Oh we're way past polite," he replies instantly.

"I thought Canadians were polite to a fault!" he's laughing hard at me now, and there's no coming back from this. "Well, it's out there. I thought my DVR was the most embarrassing thing about me, but you've resurrected the past!"

"Your DVR?" he questions.

"Oh it's full of guilty pleasures," I assure him.

"Like?"

"Courtroom TV shows, talk shows, reruns of teen dramas," I can't seem to change the conversation, but at least we're not talking about my brief stint on television.

"Yikes," he frowns.

"It's bad," I admit.

"Confession?" he winces like he knows he's about to do something he'll regret. "I watched all of One Tree Hill on Netflix." It's unexpected to say the least.

"One Tree Hill?" I demand clarification. He shakes his head and moves his gaze from my eyes to the table.

"See, as soon as I started saying it, I knew it was a mistake," he's pretty cute when he's embarrassed. He starts shredding the corner of the paper napkin in front of him, and I kind of like that he's thrown off his game a bit. I think I've had my fair share of teasing today, now we can see how he likes it when the tables are turned.

"And you say you're a professional hockey player?" I try my best to sound confused. He smirks and is about to retort when his phone rings and he starts fishing through his jacket pockets to answer it. He puts a finger up, letting me know he'll only be a minute.

"Hey," his tone is friendly. "I'm just out for coffee," he smiles at me. "What's up?" He listens carefully, his focus drifting from our impromptu date to whatever information is being relayed to him. "Okay, yeah. I'll head over right away." Sid hangs up the phone and looks up at me.

"Your buddy with the out call?" I suggest and he shakes his head and smiles.

"Work stuff," is all he says. "This was nice." _Nice_. Okay, I can work with nice.

"Yeah, it was good running into you," I play it cool too.

"Maybe we could run into each other again sometime?" he suggests. I grin and he continues. "Like, maybe next Sunday?"

"Sundays are good for me."

"Good," he chuckles, and for a second I feel like maybe I should have played harder to get. "I'll run into you around 10:00am at the farmers' market, and then I'll let you cook me lunch," he finishes and it's so cheeky I can't help but burst out laughing.

"Perfect," I shake my head in disbelief. He's smooth, but kind of not at the same time. "Fair warning, I live in the city."

"That's okay, you can use my kitchen. I'm just a few blocks from here," and just like that I've been invited back to his place. _In a week, but still_. "I should probably get your number in case anything changes." _Okay, he's smooth_.

"Definitely," I nod in agreement, but both of us have face-splitting smiles that conceal nothing. We swap phones and each plug in our numbers. He leans in and for a split second I wonder if he's going to kiss me, but instead we share a brief hug. _Friendly hug_. Well, it's physical contact either way. We walk in step out of the coffee shop, and it's a little awkward as we've already said our goodbye.

"We'll talk soon?" he asks, and his question throws me a bit.

"Sure," it's a shaky reply. "Call anytime," now I sound more desperate than I'd like. Sid nods and heads in the opposite direction of my car, I watch him for a second, then turn to cross the street.

"Lou," Sid calls after me. I turn quickly to face him, eager to hear what he has to say. "It was worth the wait!" It takes me a second to understand what he means.

"Now you have an in at the restaurant if you ever need a table," I laugh, catching on to his joke about the restaurant being booked solid. He gives me a shy wave and climbs into a dark blue Range Rover. I skip across the street, heading to my own car, a second-hand Jetta. I make a comfortable living, I can't complain, but I'm not driving a Range Rover either. You don't get into cooking to get rich, that much I know. I've been around wealthy people my whole life, and I can tell Sid isn't motivated by money. He's not flashy and didn't throw his money around. Even at the restaurant, he declined Mark's offer and paid the tab.

A week. I'll see him again in a week. It's Sunday, which is my favorite day for a few reasons. First, it's a day off, but more importantly, it's game night. A group of NYC ex-pats get together for good food, good wine, and terrible board games. Most of us have worked together in kitchens at some point, but there's also a few non-foodies in the mix.

At home, I unpack my shopping and the choice cut that Sid scored for me and I get to work. Preparing the marinade, massaging it into the meat, letting it sit while I prep the veg. It's my day off, and I'm elbow deep in food. I've found my calling. My phone buzzes and I glance down to see a picture of a decadent chocolate cake.

_"I'm going to face plant into that__!"_ I text back. Lucky for us, our game night group includes Jenn, a pastry chef who uses us to test her recipes. I suppose we all do a bit of that.

Simon can't cook, but he has some fancy job that keeps him in good wine, so he insists on hosting. We're all happy to let him think we're doing him a favor, but truthfully, none of us would splurge on drink the way Simon does. I balance my roaster in one hand and am just about to press the buzzer when the door flies open. "Eloise!" he insists on calling me by my full name. "Whadya got?" Simon moves to check under the lid and I slap his hand away.

"You'll have to wait," I scold playfully and head upstairs. I'm the last one in.

"Lou!" comes the call from the room. The gang is all here. Jenn, who immediately races up and takes the food from my arms. Brent, Simon's friend who never misses the chance to down some free food and hit on Jenn. Dave, a sous-cook with a short fuse. He takes game night seriously, like, really seriously. Finally Liam, a shy line cook that I have _such_ a crush on.

"Hey guys," I grin back at my friends. "What did everyone bring?"

"Dumplings," Dave says first. No surprise there, as he's just taken a job at an Asian-fusion restaurant.

"Chips," Brent chimes in completely unashamed. He's not a cook, so I suppose that's an acceptable contribution.

"Sweetbreads," Liam announces proudly. "What about you darling?"

"Lamb lollipops," I beam and just as I expected, the room sounds their approval and appreciation. "Fresh from the farmers' market!"

Simon sets a beautiful table while the rest of us catch up on the week's news and gossip. When it's time to sit in, I take a moment to snap a picture of the gorgeous food and consider sending it to Sid. _Too soon?_ "Hey Jenn," I whisper carefully. "If you had coffee with a guy who gave you a rack of lamb would it be weird to send him a picture of it?"

"What?" she bursts out laughing and my cover is blown. "Some guy gave you the meat?" A series of catcalls and cheering follows.

"Okay, relax," I try to get the situation under control. "It's not like that."

"So whose meat are we eating, Lou?" Brent asks cheekily.

"I ran into a customer at the farmers' market and he scored me the lamb, that's it!" I blush furiously.

"Whatever you say darling," Liam teases and starts dishing up his offering.

"Send it," Jenn whispers back and gives me a supportive wink.

_"Thanks again!"_ I quickly hit send before I change my mind and tuck my phone away. It's my night to enjoy my friends, not stress about a guy.


	3. Chapter 3

My finger hovers over the Y key and I stare at the screen, hesitating. _Sidney Crosb_...but I can't bring myself to finish typing. Not that Google wouldn't know who I was searching with the omission of that last letter. My heart is racing and I'm not sure why I'm so nervous. I pick up my phone and scroll through my texts. Nothing.

_How long should I wait to text after a first date? _If anyone can answer it's the Internet. I scan through the results and find one from a semi-reputable magazine. _The new norm is to text an hour after a date_. Okay, I like that answer. I keep scanning. _You don't want to be Debbie Desperate. Wait a day_. Shit. Well which is it? I keep scanning and reading, finding arguments for both sides, but deep down I know that I'm team Debbie Desperate. I might even be Captain of the Debbie Desperates.

I stand up and walk away from my laptop, surveying the scene. Tub of ice cream? Check. Glass of wine? Check. Phone volume on high to alert me of any incoming communication? Check. Googling your date? Almost. _He googled you!_ It makes my heart skip a beat to think of him being curious about me. Although, I highly doubt he turned a simple search into a scene straight out of some silly rom-com. Why am I making such a big deal about this? People look up their dates. I've probably searched Liam's name a thousand times. _Not helping your Debbie Desperate status._

"I'm so bad at this," I huff out loud and my voice breaks through the silence, echoing through my apartment. I look around and it's like I'm seeing the space for the first time. Anyone could live here. I scan the room and I don't see a single personal touch. It's kind of depressing. My eyes dart back to the screen my fingers have taken on a life of their own. _Sidney Crosby Girlfriend_. There's over sixty four million results.

I slam the laptop shut before I can do any real damage and turn on the Food Network. _Barefoot Contessa_. I adore her. She's making her old-fashioned apple crisp and I can't help myself. I'm rummaging through the fridge and pantry to see if I have everything I need. It's close, so I get to work. Cooking always calms my nerves, and it's doing the trick right now. I barely think about Sidney. It's probably been at least three minutes since I've considered that he might have a game and that would explain why he hasn't texted. _That must be it._ I could just look it up, and everything would make sense and I could finally relax. Besides, looking up the schedule of the local hockey team isn't the same as searching Sidney. I put the crisp on hold and head back to my computer.

No game tonight. Tomorrow though, in town. _I should go_. You are a crazy person Lou! _The restaurant is closed Mondays, you could go_. Can you imagine how completely deranged you would look going to his game? Okay, it's settled. As I am not a hockey fan, I will not be attending his hockey game. Logic. Works every time. For a second, I'm pretty pleased with myself, and then I remember that he _doesn't_ have a game tonight, meaning that he just simply hasn't texted me back.

It's either really late or really early depending on how you look at things, and as much as I wish it weren't true, the fact is there is no reply coming tonight. I'm too worked up to sleep, and I've just made a family-size pan of apple crisp that needs another forty minutes in the oven. It surprises even me when I cut through the packing tape and examine the contents of the cardboard box that has been doubling as a coffee table.

Why the hell did I pack old magazines? No wonder motivation to unpack has been low. I flip through them, and admittedly, I get caught up in a few articles, but there's nothing special about them. A curling iron is shoved down the side next to an over-sized Ziplock full of nail polish. I guess I've kind of let the primping fall away since moving to Pittsburgh. Nail polish in the kitchen is a big no-no. No excuse about my hair though. I could put in some effort if I made the time. There, one box down and only a few more to go.

It's quick work. There's a few office supplies, a set of fabric napkins I thought were lost, and some DVDs. I fold the cardboard, grab the old magazines and make a dash out the door for the recycling. My building isn't super posh, but it's not exactly cheap either. My parents drilled into me the importance of making smart investments. Rent is not a smart investment, so I searched high and low for an apartment that I could afford to buy. The hallways are quiet, I guess most people's weekends are winding down. I'm struggling to shove the cardboard into the recycling chute when I hear the faint sound of my phone ringing.

It's a mad dash, but I've left the door open and there's no one around to get in my way. I don't even check the caller ID in case it's that precious second that makes the difference. "Hello?" I try not to sound completely out of breath.

"Hey," it's a voice I don't immediately recognize and my heart races. "I hope I didn't wake you."

"No, what's up Mark?" Of course it's work. Mark informs me that Victor was late for his shift again tonight and they've decided to let him go.

"He's a good cook Mark," I try to defend him, but I know it's no use. He's had his fair share of warnings.

"I'm just letting you know because I won't see you until Wednesday and if he shows up, well, let one of the guys handle it."

"Got it," I sigh. That's disappointing. It's hard to find good cooks. Pittsburgh doesn't have the same rotation of kitchen staff other cities do. Getting a gig in a fine-dining kitchen isn't easy, and cooks tend to be loyal to their chefs. I can hear Mark's wife in the background telling him to go to sleep. "We can talk about this Wednesday," I decide, it's not like we can do anything about it tonight anyway.

"Nite Lou," and the line goes dead. Well that just says it all. I'm waiting for my personal life to take shape, but when the phone rings - it's work. The next chime that sounds lets me know my dessert is ready. I've lost my appetite though. Disappointment will do that. I cover it with foil and decide to actually sleep in my bed for once. Again, I can't help but notice that my bedroom doesn't look like a grown woman's room. The walls are off-white and bare, I don't have a headboard, just the basic bed frame that came with my mattress, a desk lamp where something more stylish should be, and not a single pop of color to be found. Maybe I'd feel more at home in Pittsburgh if I actually put my home together.

Sleep doesn't come easy, but it finally does come. It's a deep sleep, years of late night shifts have allowed me to develop the ability to sleep even with daylight streaming through my windows. I actually kind of enjoy it. The sun warms my face as I stretch and decide whether or not I'm rested enough to get out of bed. I reach for my phone to check the time and almost fall over when I see a text from Sid.

"_That looks awesome__!_" Hmmm. Not exactly what I was hoping for. Sid hasn't left me much room to reply. What can you even say to that? _Yes, it was awesome_. I delete that immediately. I toss the phone on the bed and head to take a shower. Why am I so stressed about this guy? I guess I haven't been on a date in a while. Nearly three years. And it's been even longer since my last relationship. It's weird to know someone likes me. _He likes me!_ Liam has always just been a crush because, well because I know he doesn't feel that way about me. We're buddies, that's it. Now this guy comes along, admits that he's waited three months to introduce himself, three months, and then completely disarms me with his adorable and easy going charm over coffee.

It's more excitement than this lady can handle. I wrap a towel around myself and head back to my room to get ready for the day. It's just after one, and I have twenty seven hours before I have to be at work. Then the furious pace of the week starts all over again. _And then it'll be Sunday and you can run into Sidney_. I need to keep busy.

The large box store near my place sells a little bit of everything. I'm tempted to take a spin through their version of a grocery aisle, but when I think about the depressing state of my house I make a beeline for housewares. I have the basics, so now it's just grabbing a few things to pull it all together. It's intimidating though. This is not my strong suit, not even close. My little project proves to be a good distraction though, and I barely think of Sid. _Yeah right_. In my defense, there is an alarming amount of Penguins merchandise for sale and the black and gold sweaters that used to be in my blindspot, now stick out like a sore thumb.

Moving things around the apartment, seeing where they best fit, and unfortunately, making a small pile of things to return captures my complete attention, and I'm startled when my phone rings. "Hello?" It had better not be work!

"Hey," I can hear the nerves in his voice. "Is this a bad time?"

"Not at all," I try to sound as cool as possible. "How's it going?"

"Good, yeah. What about you?" I've accidentally derailed Sid's train of thought and he stumbles a bit.

"Good," I answer brightly.

"So, I just wanted to say hi," he says with a hint of embarrassment.

"Hi," I giggle. "What are you up to?"

"Just waking up," he admits.

"Really?" I practically gasp in disbelief.

"Well, from my nap," he says as if that makes any difference. _He takes naps?_ It's kind of cute, but a little weird too. I'm not going to lie. "Are you working tonight?"

"No, the restaurant is closed Mondays," I feel my heart start to race as I wait for his reply.

"I don't know if you have plans, and it's not a big deal or anything, but if you're not doing anything tonight, um, well I have a game in town and I could leave you a couple tickets if you're interested," he finishes and my cheeks hurt from smiling so hard. He's so nervous! "No pressure," he adds quickly.

"Yeah, that sounds fun," his nerves are contagious.

"Great, so two tickets?" he continues, slightly more at ease.

"Awesome," and I kick myself for not saying something flirty or clever.

"Cool, so there's two tickets waiting for you at the arena, and just give them your name," he sounds a bit excited.

"I can't wait," I tell him honestly.

Jenn isn't much of a sports fan, but she's easily my best girlfriend in the city and if there's anyone I trust it's Jenn. She digs through my closet, tossing options onto the bed as I do my best to tame my hair and play up my features without going overboard with bronzer and mascara. "Have you been to a game before?" I ask Jenn, although I suspect I know the answer.

"Once," she's full of surprises. "It was a first date with that guy I met online."

"Tim," I fill in the blank for her.

"No, not that one, the guy with the right-hand drive BMW," she explains.

"Jeffery," I laugh.

"Yes! God he was such a snob," she groans. "Anyway, I don't mean to burst your bubble, but any guy who tries to impress you with tickets is probably a blowhard."

"What if he's playing in the game though?" I ask sincerely and Jenn stops dead in her tracks.

"Wait, the customer with the tickets is one of the Penguins?" she drops the sweater she's holding as I nod. "Well dammit Lou, that changes everything!" She pushes the previous selections off the bed and heads back into the closet.

"I don't want to turn this into a bigger deal than it is," I say nervously.

"Lou," she stares at me intently. "It's been too long. Time to get back out there." She disappears back into the closet as I flop onto the bed and consider her words.

_I hate when she's right_.


	4. Chapter 4

"Last ticket!" I call down the line, and I could not be happier the night is nearly over. This week has been rough. With Vic being let go we've had to shake up the kitchen a little bit and things are not running smoothly. Mark and I have interviewed a half dozen candidates, but none of them made it past the hollandaise test. We can't lower the standard, so we just have to work harder.

"When does the new sous start?" I've been asked the same question all week.

"Let me worry about that, you worry about you garnishes," I snap. It's been a stressful few days, for a lot of reasons. The game was nothing like I expected. We had good seats, just a few rows up from ice level. It was sold out, which impressed me initially, but then someone informed us they've sold out every game for the past seven seasons. That little fact, combined with the thousands of Crosby jerseys staring me in the face, and the whole event became intimidating. Well, more than intimidating. More like terrifying.

_What does he want with me?_ I couldn't shake the thought. He was amazing, and I don't know much about sports, but that wasn't hard to figure out. There were clusters of women cheering for him, and it made me feel...insecure. I had every intention of enjoying myself, but I didn't. Not one bit. I was nervous and uncomfortable. "Hey, relax," Jenn repeated over and over. She was desperate to know which player had invited us, but I couldn't bring myself to tell her. I can't explain it. It's not that I was embarrassed because of Sid, I was embarrassed because of me. Like if anyone knew why I was there, they'd see right through me and know that I'm not superstar girlfriend material.

There was one moment though, and I've thought about it for days, reliving it over and over and over again. Sid was on the ice when the first period ended and instead of skating off immediately, he did a half circle and looked up toward our seats. Of course, everyone was trying to get his attention, and I can't be sure he even saw me, but I did see the shy smile creep across his face as he turned away. It might be wishful thinking, but part of me really believes that smile was because of me.

That's the only thing keeping me from bailing on Sid tomorrow.

"Chef?" Mark waves his hands in front of my face and I'm snapped back into the present. "Can we do a gluten-free substitution for the brownie?"

"Uh..." I'm off my game. "Um, yeah, I can do something," I mumble.

"Lou?" his voice quiets, "you okay?"

"Yeah," I smile up at him. "Long night."

"Don't worry, he's out there," Mark assures me. _What? He's out where? In the dining room?_

"He's here?" panic bubbles inside me.

"What? No, your new sous-chef. I'm saying he's out there, we just have to find him," Mark shakes his head and looks at me skeptically. "You sure you're okay?"

"The new sous might be a woman Mark, did that ever occur to you?" I hiss, and step away from the pass and get back to work. One last table of mains, then desserts and we're out of here. I can set aside my love-life anxieties long enough to finish the night strong. I check my phone as I'm doing my final inspection of the kitchen before heading home and there's a few texts from Sid.

"_Are we still on for tomato?_" Huh?

"_Tomorrow, not tomato. Auto-correct._" I burst out laughing.

"_I'm embarrassed, don't leave me hanging!_" The last text arrived just twenty minutes ago.

"_I'm on for tomato if you are!_" I tease and wait. After a few seconds I see the little bubble telling me he's typing. Then it disappears. Then it reappears. And disappears. And then finally it reappears and is quickly replaced with...

"_Great!_" All that anguish and he decided to go with a one-word answer? I guess I'm not the only one over thinking this.

"_Great!_" I type back to immediate regret. What if he thinks I'm making fun of him?

"_Great!_" I can't help the flood of giggling, he's kind of funny.

We've agreed to run into each other at ten, so if I fall asleep now I can get a good six hours before I need to be up. I'm exhausted, but too excited to sleep at the same time. Dangerous combination. I close my eyes and try to think of nothing, but that turns out to be impossible. I mean, thinking of nothing is an action, so I'm inherently keeping my brain busy, which keeps me awake. I check the time and do some quick math. If I fall asleep _now_ I can get just over five hours, which isn't as good as six, but I've operated on less. Maybe I should get up earlier, just in case what I've planned to wear doesn't look right, or my hair decides not to cooperate.

I climb out of bed and slip on the clothes I've laid out, convincing myself that if I confirm I've selected the right clothes my mind will relax and I'll be able to fall asleep, giving me a solid four hours and fifty minutes. It's nothing too flashy, jeans and a knit sweater. I don't know why I felt the need to try it on, this is practically my second uniform. Okay, enough is enough. I crawl back into bed and close my eyes, resolving not to open them until my alarm sounds.

_Did I set an alarm? _Well, I definitely need to double check that. Yep, I've set two alarms actually, but maybe a third wouldn't be the worst idea. Even though I've driven to that market two dozen plus times, for some reason it feels absolutely necessary to map out the route and check the drive time. Google says it will take about six minutes longer than I had anticipated. Well that changes everything. I revisit the alarms and make the necessary adjustments.

_But you don't want to be too early_. I don't want to come off as eager. I reconsider the alarms, then it occurs to me that I haven't even checked the weather. Yeah my outfit looks good, but it might be totally inappropriate! Another quick search and I learn tomorrow is expected to be cloudy. Cloudy, but it doesn't say anything about rain. Okay, I've thought of everything and if I fall asleep now I can still get almost four full hours.

If it's cloudy though, doesn't that mean there's a chance of rain?

My alarm sounds and it feels like I've just fallen asleep. I keep to my schedule though, even finding a few minutes to down some strong coffee and a smoothie. It's ten to ten when I find a parking spot and head to the market. My palms are sweating, my heart is racing, and my eyes dart from booth to booth looking for Sid. I wander around, absentmindedly looking at produce, but admittedly too distracted to make any decisions. I look up and I spot him, and he's looking for me. Now I have a decision to make, do I find Sid or let Sid find me?

I walk toward him, but don't make eye contact, keeping my focus on the food. There's a vendor selling sweet dill mustard. I take a keen interest, and my heart race speeds up, sensing his proximity. His hand touches my lower back and I surprise myself by playing it cool and turning slowly to face him. "Hey," I beam cheerfully.

"Hey," he blushes a bit and I smile even harder. "What are we looking at?" Before I can answer, the woman manning to booth jumps in to tell Sid all about her homemade mustard. He's good at this. He seems interested, he's polite, he answers all of her questions with a smile, expertly navigating the more personal topics and steering the conversation back to the team every time. He ends up buying a jar, and insists on paying. The woman isn't shy about begging for a photo, which he agrees to immediately. "Do you mind?" he hands me her phone and I step back to snap the photo. _Good lord he is handsome_. I hand back her phone while Sid thanks her for her support. "Sorry about that," he apologizes as we continue through the market.

"It's fine," I laugh.

"It can be a little much sometimes," he admits quietly. His confession makes me a little sad, but he seems in good spirits. "So Lou, what are you making me today?" We both giggle at his demand and I find myself hoping he'll take my hand in his.

"What do you feel like having?"

"No no no," he shakes his head. "You're the food expert, you decide."

"Well, I know this great butcher nearby," I start toward the nearby stand and Sid laughs loudly at my joke.

"Let's skip that one," he suggests, wrapping his arm around my shoulder and guiding me away. _Way better than hand holding!_

"East coaster, right?" I ask and he nods, encouraging me to continue. "How do you feel about seafood?"

"Oh I'm gonna like you," he smiles down at me and I blush furiously.

Sid's house is massive, like my apartment could fit into it a dozen times over massive. Every room looks like a page straight out of a decorating magazine. "Your house is gorgeous," I gape.

"Thanks," his reply is very to the point. I guess gushing over his mansion would make for uncomfortable conversation. "I think you'll like this room," he tells me and leads me into the kitchen.

"Wow," the word is out of my mouth before I can stop myself. "You know these are restaurant grade appliances?" I can't imagine having a range like this in my home. Oh, the things I could do with this range. I run my fingers along the stainless steel frame and look up to find a surprised Sid.

"Yeah? I didn't have much to do with choosing them," he confesses.

"Do you like to cook?" my interest is piqued.

"Uh..." and he doesn't need to finish that thought.

"Not really?" I offer.

"Not really," he confirms.

"Well, maybe we can do something about that!" I start unpacking the groceries.

"I'll be more of a hindrance than help," he says nervously.

"Don't worry," I use the opportunity to rest my hand on his chest. "I'll do all the heavy lifting."

I've got Sid all set up with a cutting board, veggies and a manageable knife. He's not as bad as he thinks, but it's pretty obvious this isn't how he spends his free time. "So you didn't tell me how you liked the game?"

"Oh," he's taken me by surprise. I look up from the scallops I'm cleaning to find him eagerly awaiting my answer. "It was really fun." I texted him afterwards to thank him for the tickets, but I guess he wants a full report. He raises his eyebrows, encouraging me to continue. "You're kind of a big deal," I smile and he shrugs.

"It depends who you ask I guess," he tries to cover with a joke.

"I'm kind of embarrassed, I had no idea," my anxieties start spilling out of me, and I have to change directions quickly. "There's more fighting than I thought there would be."

Sid laughs and shakes his head. "There was an unusual amount of fighting," he considers his words carefully.

"Why?"

"Big rivalry, bad blood between the teams, and some players hold on to old grudges," he rattles off the reasons and I guess it makes sense.

"But two guys started fighting for no reason," I can't believe I'm enjoying talking about sports.

"At the start of the second?" he asks and I nod. "Yeah, those two had unfinished business from the first." The puzzled look on my face encourages him to continue. "The guy on our team had a hard hit on their captain, and it's the other guy's job to protect the captain, so he was sending a message."

"Oh," it sort of makes sense, but it seems..."that's extreme." Sid pauses and then bursts out laughing. I can't help but laugh too, but I stand by my sentiment. "Well it is!"

"I guess it is," he chuckles.

"So, are there players on your team who are supposed to protect you?" His cheeks redden a bit.

"Yes and no," is all he says and he starts chopping again.

"Pretty vague Sid," I tease.

"It's complicated," he tells me and I take his cue and drop the subject.

"Can I say something totally superficial?"

"Please," he giggles.

"Your team is way better looking than Boston." This sends Sid into a fit of giggles. "It's true, they are not handsome."

"So you think I'm handsome," he teases me and I feel my cheeks heat.

"Maybe," I shrug with as much indifference as I can muster. "Or I think Boston is just really ugly." Sid grins and sets his knife down. He steps toward me and my heart starts racing. Sid takes my hand in his, his fingers lacing through mine, and he closes the space between us. His chest is heavy on mine, I feel my hips brush across his legs, and my breath quickens.

I tilt my head up and his lips press against mine. I close my eyes and try not to melt on the spot. Our first kiss is long, deep, and spontaneous. The best kind of kiss. He slowly pulls away, kisses me once on the forehead and runs his hands down my arms, gently holding me in place.

"I think you're pretty," he whispers, and then turns away and heads back to his cutting board, leaving me completely stunned. It takes me a second to recover and when I finally find the courage to look up at him, he's wearing a face-splitting grin. "You think I'm handsome," he says confidently.

I regain my composure and shrug, "Maybe."


	5. Chapter 5

He has a formal dining room, an eat in kitchen, and a breakfast bar, but we're eating off our laps in his media room. Sid examines the food like I've handed him an alien specimen. I watch him carefully as he dissects the dish, lifting the scallops to see what else I've served up.

"You must have had scallops before!" I'm not falling for his picky eater routine.

"What's the sauce?" he looks skeptical.

"It's brown buttered linguine, scallops and peas," I tell him with an encouraging smile. "Try it."

"Brown butter," he says as if he's testing the words. I nod quickly and smile. "Okay Lou," he twirls some pasta onto his fork and slowly raises it to his lips. _I've kissed those lips_. I feel a slow heat spread across my cheeks thinking about our little moment in the kitchen. I watch him chew and it's making him self-conscious. Sid giggles and raises his hand to cover his mouth. "Stop watching me!" he pleads with his mouth full, struggling to eat, laugh, talk and smile at the same time. I divert my gaze, smiling so hard my cheeks sting, and dig into my lunch.

"Okay, okay," I giggle, but I _want_ to watch him try my food. I want to see his reaction when realizes that brown butter is surprisingly nutty, and rich, and deliciously fatty against the fresh scallops and the bright veg. I risk it and glance up. He's watching me, a trace of a smirk on his face.

"That's good," he admits and I nod in agreement.

"Right?"

"That's really good," he beams at me and tucks into his food. He's not what I'd expect a millionaire hockey star would be. He's polite, kind of cheeky sometimes, and really...decent. He's a decent guy, or seems to be so far. Let's be honest though, we all thought Tiger Woods was a decent guy. _Don't do this Lou_. I remind myself not to wait for him to disappoint me. I guess a few bad relationships will do that. Sid finishes first and helps himself to a scallop from my plate. I playfully swat his hand away, but he's too quick for me.

"So I didn't disappoint?" I ask hopefully.

"It's the best lunch I've had all day," he teases. I roll my eyes and turn back to my plate to find his fork sneaking more food from me. I don't really mind though, I always hate when women refuse to eat in front of their dates, but for the first time in my life, I understand. Nerves about spilling down the front of my sweater, or getting something stuck in my teeth, or just looking unattractive. I get it. Sid doesn't seem to notice though, I think he's just happy to have more food to pick at. "What do you feel like doing?" his question catches me off guard. I hadn't considered how long our "run in" would go, and I didn't give any thought to doing more than this.

"I don't know," I say brightly. "Give me some options." His expression changes as he contemplates the possibilities.

"Well, we could watch a movie," he suggests.

"We could," I agree, but I'm not overly enthusiastic. I kind of like just_ talking_ to him. Sid senses my hesitation and offers up another idea.

"Bowling?" he grins eagerly and I don't want to disappoint.

"Sure," I laugh. Sid jumps up from the couch and heads over to a small panel on the wall. He presses and complex sequence of buttons and a screen lowers from the ceiling. _What? _I sit up, my curiosity piqued and watch Sid dig through a cabinet. There must be a hundred DVD cases, a bunch of remotes, and then I get it. We're playing a video game. "Wii?"

"Yep," his voice has a trace of competitiveness in it. I've played before, and I wasn't terrible. Hmm. I wonder if he's a sore loser? "Ladies first," he challenges, holding out the controller, a smug look on his face. I tentatively take it from hand and slip the strap around my wrist.

"Go easy on me," I plead and for a split-second, I think he might take pity on me, but then this smile creeps across his lips and I know I'm in trouble. _Hmm_. I examine the controller, line myself up and my first attempt isn't actually that bad.

"Pretty good," he tells me, but he's not worried. Sid takes his turn and it becomes very clear he's done this a few times.

"A ringer!" I accuse and Sid feigns innocence, but his laugh gives him away. After a few frames I'm convinced that I won't get to see if Sid is a sore loser, not today anyway. "You're not going to let me win?" I ask sweetly, but he just shakes his head and takes his next turn. "You're that competitive?"

"Oh Lou, you have no idea," he laughs. Sid examines the screen carefully, and gets himself in position, but then reconsiders. He pulls off his grey sweater revealing a tight black t-shirt underneath. The fabric is stretched around his chest and for the first time I get a glimpse of how muscular he is. _Cheating by distraction!_

"I think you've got this one Sid," I sit down and set the controller aside. Sid watches me with an expression of horror.

"You can't quit!" he pulls me to my feet and ushers me back in front of the screen.

"Because if I quit that would mean you didn't really win!" I tease him, but there's likely a grain of truth there.

"We're almost done and then we can do whatever you want," he promises. There's something really sweet about him. His touch is gentle, he's encouraging, even though he's really just encouraging me to keep losing to him, and _he thinks I'm pretty!_ The sound of those words ring through my ears and I'm putty in his hands. "And yes, I'd like an undisputed win," he chuckles.

"Whatever I want?" The cheeky question is out of my mouth before I can stop myself.

"Within reason," he laughs, but there's a trace of pink spreading across his cheeks that makes me giggle. "What?" I've embarrassed him, and it's really cute.

"Nothing," I assure him and watch him bowl his last frame. It's a decisive victory, but that doesn't seem to lessen the thrill of winning for Sid. He offers me his hand and gives it a matter-of-fact shake.

"Good game," he teases.

"Yeah right," I groan.

"Your turn."

"My turn?" First dates are awkward. It's trying to balance finding an opportunity to get to know the other person and doing something fun enough to take the pressure off. "Hot chocolate and a walk?" I ask him nervously.

"That sounds perfect," he smiles back at me, and my nerves settle. "Do you know this part of town?"

"Not at all, I drive in for the farmers' market and then leave," I laugh and he nods.

"Good, I can show you around."

Sid doesn't have cocoa, or sugar, so we have to make instant hot chocolate. He rummages through his cupboards, convincing himself that if he just looks hard enough, he'll find what we need. It's a chance for me to snoop a bit, and to my surprise, Sid has a lot of "instant" foods. I guess he really doesn't cook. "We can make due Sid," I insist. "Here," I brush past him and grab a few things that we can use and set them on the counter beside him.

"Peanut butter?" he looks at me skeptically.

"Oh yeah, chocolate and peanut butter were made for each other." Sid pulls a carton of almond milk out of the fridge, and I'm pleasantly surprised. Most people use regular old cow's milk, but almond milk makes for a much nicer hot chocolate base. I pull out a small sauce pot and start warming the milk. Just before it starts simmering I add a healthy amount of the instant powder and whisk furiously. Sid watches intently, although there is nothing special about what I'm doing. I grab a teaspoon and give it a taste. It's not great, but it's not terrible either. I spoon in a generous dollop of peanut butter and watch it melt.

"I dunno about this," Sid practically whispers and my confidence fades. I've only ever made this with real chocolate, so it's a gamble.

"Taste," I lift the spoon to his mouth and watch him tentatively try our concoction. "What do you think?"

"It's weird," he furrows his brows and my heart sinks, but then his expression softens. "It's weird," he starts again, "but it's so good." He stretches out the words emphatically and I grin proudly. Sid tips the pot forward, filling the spoon again and lifts it to my lips. It's actually not bad. Is it great, no, but it's better than I expected.

The cloudy morning has turned into a warm November afternoon which means people are out enjoying weather. We've walked the length of Sid's street, and a few turns later we're out of the residential neighborhood and onto a street lined with cute Mom and Pop shops. It seems like a quaint little strip worth taking a closer look at, but when I turn to Sid, he's no longer the lighthearted, playful guy from five minutes ago. He's stiff, alert, and on edge. Maybe this wasn't such a good idea. We've already been stopped by a few fans, and I happily stepped aside to let him do his thing, but something has put him off.

"You okay?" I ask quietly. Sid turns quickly toward me and tries to shrug it off.

"Yeah," he says instantly.

"You seem...tense," I venture carefully. He relaxes slightly, and takes a deep breath.

"It's just a little busier than I thought it would be," he says simply. _Does he have a fear of crowds?_ We continue walking, but our easygoing date is now terribly uncomfortable and awkward. Sid stares at the ground as we walk down the street, brushing past people quickly, avoiding all eye contact. He's miserable and I feel ridiculous for having put him through this.

"We can go," I offer. "I just thought that, well you were at the market so I didn't think crowds would be a big deal," I explain nervously.

"It's not crowds," he says quickly, and I feel like a little kid put in their place. Sid looks over his shoulder and I can faintly hear someone call after him. I guess it never stops for him.

"Let's get out of here," is all he says before pulling me down a quiet side street. He moves so quickly I practically have to jog to catch up to him. Every few steps he looks behind him to see if we're being followed. _Who would be following us?_ "Please don't freak out..." he starts and stops.

"Sid?" When someone tells you not to freak out, that generally means there's good reason to freak out, and I am definitely freaked out!

"Sorry, there's someone who has the wrong idea about us and..."

"About us, like you and me?" I interrupt. "I don't understand."

"No, sorry, um, she has the wrong idea about _her _and _I_," he corrects. "She can be kind of...intense."

"Intense?" I ask, hoping for some detail.

"Yeah," and that's all Sid gives me. "I'm sorry, this is not how I thought today would go." He's apologetic, embarrassed, and I feel for him. It's not ideal, but I guess when you're a celebrity these things happen. We hurry down the small road, take another turn, and find ourselves on a quiet street, back in the relative safety of suburbia. I take a deep breath, and then then I realize we're holding hands. I mean, it's not super romantic, he's dragging me away from..._from what?_

"So...that was exciting," I try to make a joke, but I've lost him. Sid is a million miles away when his cell phone rings, startling him. He checks the number and decides not to answer. _Is it her?_ I can't help but wonder if she's dangerous. We walk in silence, the uncomfortable space between us growing by the second. It's a short walk back to his house, and a wave of unexpected relief washes over me.

"Listen," Sid starts apologetically. "I'm really sorry about that, I didn't mean to scare you."

"Hey, these things happen," I smile. "Not to me, but they happen." Sid offers a quiet laugh, but his smile is distant and I can tell his thoughts are somewhere else. "So, uh, I'm gonna take off I think," I tell him. This seems to surprise Sid, but what else can I do? He obviously has something he needs to take care of, and I don't know how to keep stretching out a date that has gone this far off the rails.

"You don't have to go," he says sweetly.

"I think it's for the best," I say quietly.

"Okay, I get it," he answers with a small smile. "It was fun hanging out with you," he adds cheerfully.

"Me too," then it occurs to me that everything I've said makes it seem like I don't want to see him again. "Maybe we can hang out when your..._problem_ goes away?"

"It might be a while," he chuckles, but there's a sadness in his voice.

"Yeah?"

"She's uh..." he considers his words carefully. "She's been a _problem_ for a while," he admits.

"Okay, well maybe we can try again at my place?" I offer and his mood improves immediately.

"Yeah?" he sounds surprised, but eager.

"Sure," I giggle. "You can cook me dinner."


	6. Chapter 6

"Dammit Lou!" Mark huffs out of the kitchen, completely exasperated with me. I look down the line and get nods of approval from my crew. Mark comes bolting back into the room, his face red and his fists clenched by his side. "What was wrong with that one?" he spits the words out, his anger eclipsing his curiosity.

"I asked him to make me a Béarnaise," I start, my voice even and firm.

"And?!" Mark has no patience.

"He made Hollandaise," I shrug.

"But you said Hollandaise was the test," his voice quivers and threatens to erupt.

"Hollandaise was the test, he made a great Hollandaise, but when you work the line and I call for a Béarnaise you can't give me Hollandaise," I tell him simply.

"It's true," my former saucier Chris chimes in. Chris has been promoted to sous-chef, but he still feels ownership over his former station. After interviewing nearly two dozen candidates, it became clear we'd have to promote from within. That has solved most of our immediate problems, but it's created some new ones too. The politics of the kitchen have been upset, meaning Chris has to be on his game every single night. I don't mind that one bit. The bigger issue is we're short an experienced saucier, and that is one position where you need experience.

Mark gives me an incredulous look, but I shake him off. "Let me run my kitchen Mark," I remind him. "We're at our best when we're under pressure."

"Your _best_ used to be the best in town," he hisses and storms off. _What does that mean?_ I abandon my post at the pass and stalk after Mark. He moves quickly into the dining room and I catch the door before it swings closed again.

"Mark!" my tone is sharp, but it's not quite a shout. A few diners take notice and Mark is horrified.

"Chef?" he's overly sweet, trying to cover in case any guests are paying attention. His smile is stiff and his eyes wild. I feel his hand grip my wrist tightly as he tries to push me back into the kitchen, but I don't budge.

"If you have something to say about my food, say it," I whisper through gritted teeth, the phony smile plastered on my face disguising my anger.

"Lou," he starts, attempting again to usher me back into the relative privacy of the kitchen.

"I don't tell you how to run the dining room, don't tell me how to run the kitchen," I turn on my heel and walk away.

"Lou," the voice comes from my left, but I've had just about as much of Mark as I can take.

"What?" I snap, but it's not Mark calling my name. "Dad?"

"Bad time?" he raises his eyebrows and I can practically feel the wave of disappointment crash around me. I shake my head and encourage him to continue. "Your name is on the menu," he's impressed, so I wait for the other shoe to drop. "I wonder whose name is on the lease." And there it is.

"I'm the Executive Chef, not the owner," I tell him.

"Right," he nods as if I've just reminded him of some obvious fact.

"What are you doing here?" I try to sound pleasant and fail miserably.

"Business," he keeps it to the point.

"In Pittsburgh?" it seems unlikely.

"Yes Eloise," it's never a good sign when he uses my full name. "My partners are here, perhaps you'd like to say hello?" he turns and begins walking away from our conversation, and I know I'm expected to follow.

"Sir?" the word is unfamiliar as it leaves my mouth. He turns to see what I could possibly object to, and I take a deep breath to steady my resolve. "I have to get back to the kitchen."

"Well," he's taken aback. "Don't let me keep you."

"How long are you in town?" I ask quickly.

"Until Tuesday," he says sharply. "On business." He adds the last bit to remind me that it's just a coincidence, although I know better. Dad always takes his meals in his room so he can continue working. They've sought me out.

"Do you have any free time?" I ask politely.

"I don't keep my schedule," he reminds me. "I'll have someone contact you." And with that he turns to leave. It's a relief, but it's also taken me by surprise and obviously our stiff interaction is upsetting. _Could this night get any worse?_ I settle back into my station and start sending food out. It's been a few weeks of distractions and Mark's comment about the food suffering has probably thrown me more than anything. I can't bring myself to even consider he's right. Instead, I resolve to raise the standards and put my head down and get to work.

The night goes by quickly, my anger bubbling hotter than anything on the stove. I have to work closely with Chris to help him succeed in his new role, but I don't mind that type of work. My mentors were great teachers and I remind myself that being a good chef means being a good teacher. He's a bit sloppy, and I have to tell him to keep his knife at his side more often than I'd like, but he'll get there. Once in a while my mind wanders and I think of Sid. They played this afternoon in Buffalo, but I was in the kitchen before the game ended. As curious as I am about the outcome, I'd rather hear about it from Sid. We talked on the phone for nearly two hours last night, and I get butterflies just remembering.

Before I know it, it's the end of the night. Mark's temper has worn off, but I'm not in a forgiving mood. He's brave enough to face me after the final ticket goes out, so I decide to hear him out. "There's someone waiting for you at the bar," he says in a cool tone.

"Who is it?" I roll my eyes at his refusal to apologize.

"A young guy, I don't know," is all he says before turning away from me.

"Tomorrow?" I call after him. We've fought like this a few times before, and we've agreed not to let it drag out longer than a day.

"Tomorrow," he calls back. It's settled. Tomorrow is a fresh start, the ugliness of today will be water under the bridge. I walk through the kitchen, making sure everyone is on task either cleaning their station or prepping for tomorrow. It gives me a chance to consider who might be waiting for me, but I'm fairly confident it's Sid. We've been texting all week, sending photos back and forth, and I know he got back into town earlier today. I untie my ponytail and run my hands through my hair. I decide to slip out of my chef's coat and shrug on a navy button down shirt before heading out toward the bar.

The dining room is quiet, a handful of tables finishing dessert and coffee. I smile politely at the waiter busing the last few tables, and turn to the corner toward the bar area. He's sitting there, drink in hand, and a familiar smile on his face.

"Jason," I practically scream and race toward him. He opens his arms and gives me a fierce hug that tests the strength of every bone in my body. "Dad didn't say you were with him," I tell him quietly as he slowly pulls away from me.

"That doesn't surprise me," he laughs easily.

"A little notice would be nice," I tease him, taking a seat beside him and I glance around for the bar staff.

"If I knew we were landing in Pittsburgh you would have been my first call," he says sincerely. "It's been a long time kid." _Ugh_.

"Don't call me kid," I grin at him, but it's a sincere plea. He nods twice, but all the begging in the world can't free me from that nickname. "How's Dad?" It's a heavy question, and we could probably sit at this bar for days trying to understand our father.

"Still as complex as ever," it's the easiest answer, and it's probably the truth.

"Mom?"

"Well, let's see," he takes a deep breath and tries to figure out where to start. "Busy with her charities," he tells me and I nod quickly. _No change there_. "She's blonde now," he laughs.

"Still chasing the fountain of youth," I sigh and he laughs.

"She tells everyone it's the first step in her transition to grey," he explains, as if anyone can explain that woman. "And she's busy with her personal trainer."

"Oh." _That's news_. "Does Dad know?"

"He'd have to be blind to miss it."

"I can't believe you're working for Dad!" my voice dips into gossip territory, but I'm genuinely curious. "How can you stand it?"

"Oh Loulou, it's not so bad," he chuckles. "The pay is pretty good." I roll my eyes at his little joke. Jason is poised to take over the family business, and the pay is better than good. There was a time when Jason and I were really close, but that feels like a lifetime ago. Our dad is the typical tycoon. Absentee father, philandering husband, but a brilliant business mind. Our mom fits her role perfectly - she's beautiful, the perfect hostess, and busies herself just enough not to be distracted by things like having a career or raising her children. There was plenty of hired help for that. I couldn't wait to break away from that life, and I thought Jason felt the same way. I guess I was wrong.

"He misses you," Jason's comment catches me off-guard.

"He barely knows me," I laugh and help myself to his drink. If we're going to talk about our parents I'm going to need alcohol. "It's not like I'm in hiding, they know how to get in touch."

"He's sick Lou," his voice is barely a whisper. "Cancer."

"What?" I'm gobsmacked. "How bad? Since when?"

"Treatable," he tells me immediately. "But, I mean, it's cancer. You never know. He's been going through treatment for the past year and a half."

"And you're just telling me now?" It's been an angry night and that emotion is right at the surface.

"I just found out!" he says defensively. "Mom didn't even know, he's kept this to himself. He's changed Lou, he's not the tyrant you remember." The tyrant who kicked me to the curb when I dropped out of college to go to culinary school? The tyrant who cut me off and told me I was turning my back on family? I can't imagine that man has the ability to change, no matter what he's facing.

"Jason..." I start, but I don't want to fight with my brother. He's basically the only family I trust.

"Say it Lou," he readies himself for whatever bomb I'm about to drop.

"I've had to do all this on my own," I say evenly. "I don't feel like I'm owed anything, and I don't want to owe them anything."

"Just talk to him, tell him how great you're doing, give him a chance to get to know you."

"He had eighteen years to get to know me Jason, and I can count on one hand how many times he asked me about my life," I say with a shrug. "He's not interested, and I'm over it."

"Really?" he looks at me suspiciously. "You seemed pretty upset a few seconds ago."

"It's a shock to hear that he's sick, but that doesn't mean I want to dive back into the insanity of our family!" Jason nods in agreement, which I wasn't expecting.

"You've always been independent," he smiles. "He respects that."

"That's hilarious," I roll my eyes and turn down to the empty drink we've shared.

"You're jealous," Jason ventures carefully.

"You know what Jason?" I snap and his eyes grow wide. "I am jealous. I'm jealous that you got a free ride and I didn't. I'm jealous that you probably have a six figure salary and I can barely pay my mortgage sometimes. Yeah, I'm jealous. But I'm also proud of myself. It's not easy to walk away from everything being handed to you on a silver platter." I take a deep breath and settle myself. When I look up to face my brother, he's stunned, but he has a hint of a smile on his face.

"Seven figure salary," he whispers and we both burst out laughing.

"Asshole," I grumble and he playfully punches me in the shoulder.

"Have lunch with us," it's a heartfelt plea and I do miss my brother. He senses that I'm close to cracking, and a sneaky grin spreads across his face. "I'll let you explain the menu to me..." he teases me and I cave.

"Fine," I sigh.

The drive home is the last hurdle to getting me into my own bed after an exhausting and emotional night. As usual, my apartment is quiet, but unexpectedly cold. It looks as though I've absentmindedly left a window open, and the crisp fall air has the place feeling more like a freezer than the cozy, comfortable space I was hoping to come home to. I like a cool bedroom when I'm sleeping, but right now I want to be warm. I run a hot bath, and flip through my phone while I wait for the tub to fill.

_"Sorry."_ One word from Mark. I can't help but laugh. _"Me too_." I text back. At least that's one source of stress I can unload for the night.

_"Tomorrow at 11:45 work for you?"_ Jason has checked Dad's schedule and it looks like this lunch is happening. _"Can't wait_." Hopefully he gets my sarcasm. I save the best for last. It's a series of messages from Sid.

_"Feed me!"_ He's sent a picture of his nearly empty fridge. _"I know you work late, but are you up for breakfast tomorrow?"_ Now there's an offer I can't refuse.

_"Definitely!"_ I text back quickly. It's late, but Sid's text came not that long ago. Hopefully he gets my answer in time.

_"Can I pick you up?"_ His reply has me floating on air. I send him my address and sink into the warm water. I could fall asleep if it weren't for the ten thousand thoughts weighing on my mind and the flurry of butterflies in my stomach. Breakfast with Sid and then lunch with my Dad. Tomorrow is going to be anything but boring.


	7. Chapter 7

When I like someone, _really _like someone, there are moments where I have trouble closing my eyes and picturing their face. It's like my brain's way of keeping me from spending all my time daydreaming about my crush. A self-defense mechanism designed to maintain a level of productivity in my life. Lord knows I need it because when I step from my building and see Sid leaning against his SUV the sight nearly takes my breath away. I've forgotten how unbelievably handsome he is. He doesn't dress like the millionaires I know. He's casual in dark jeans and a navy hoodie. He wears a plain black cap that slightly covers his eyes, but those full pink lips are impossible to miss.

"Hey," he smiles warmly and steps forward opening his arms to wrap me in a tight, but all too brief hug. "You look really nice," he whispers into my ear and the compliment floods me with butterflies and confidence. My inexperience in the dating world has me second guessing buying half the items in my closet let alone wearing them. Apparently overdressing for a date can project an expectation that men find intimidating, but being too casual makes men think you're not interested. A delicate balance indeed. After spending the better part of the early morning tearing through my clothes I settled on structured basics. Black jeans, a white v-neck and an over-priced grey moto jacket that makes me feel put together no matter what I'm wearing underneath.

"You always look good," I return the compliment, but he shakes his head in disagreement. "Stop it," I laugh. "You know you're gorgeous," and those words send an embarrassed flush of scarlet across his cheeks, but I don't regret it. I kind of like when he's embarrassed, it brings out this adorable shyness in him and it's really cute.

"Get in," he laughs and rolls his eyes, trying to shrug off my words, but the deep pink doesn't leave his cheeks. He opens the passenger door for me and guides me inside, ensuring I'm safe and sound before closing the door. He walks around the front of the vehicle, still shaking his head, as if he's trying to convince himself that he's anything but handsome. It's a habit we share, the inability to accept or believe kind words sent our way. He steps into the car and glances my way, "Ready?"

"Ready," I smile back at him. "I can't take a compliment either," I tell him, hoping he'll relax a bit and it seems to do the trick. He laughs easily, and his shoulders slowly sink into a comfortable posture as he slides into drive and eases onto the quiet street.

"Good to know," he winks at me and now it's my turn to flush. "So no more compliments!"

"Deal," I agree with a laugh. "Where are you taking me Sid?" I love saying his name. We're at the stage in our relationship where I would love to work him into every conversation, the small tidbits I've learned from our marathon phone calls seem absolutely fascinating, and yet so familiar that everything reminds me of him. Sandwich bread. _Didn't Sid say he did a commercial for sandwich bread?_ Scissors. _Sid said he needed a haircut_. Maple Syrup. _Sid is Canadian_. I've got it bad.

"I wasn't sure what you'd like," he says hesitantly, "but then I figured you're a chef, so you'll probably eat anything." He glances at me to gauge my reaction and I nod in agreement. "Good," he sounds relieved. "So I ordered some take out and thought I'd take you to my place."

"Take out for breakfast?" That's a new one even for me.

"Well..." he stumbles a bit, "it's not always fun to be out in public with me." He sounds genuinely embarrassed by this, not in the cute and shy way, but sincerely regretful.

"You're pretty fun in private," _that came out so wrong in so many ways_. My cheeks heat red immediately and my mouth drops open, my brain desperate to try and cover with something, but my mind goes blank. Sid takes one look at me and bursts into a fit of giggles. "I didn't mean it _that_ way." Not that I wouldn't mind finding out.

"Well, I haven't had any complaints," I can see the regret on his face immediately and can't help the howling laughter that escapes me. "I hate that I said that," he adds apologetically, but I'm so glad he did. He's actually pretty funny, which always seems to catch me off-guard. "Okay Lou," he tries his best to settle me down, but I'm laughing so hard tears start to form. "It wasn't that bad," he defends himself, but my laugh is infectious and he starts giggling too.

"It was pretty bad," I've lost my breath and my sides start to ache.

"You're pretty fun in private," his high-pitched voice teases me.

"I haven't had any complaints," I do my best to sound macho. I'm taken by surprise when Sidney reaches over and pinches just below my ribs and I squeal loudly.

"There, not so tough," he grins, completely satisfied with himself. I compose myself, all at once exhausted and energized by our time together. I get comfortable, expecting a longer drive out of the city, but Sid has other plans. He pulls into the parking lot of a greasy spoon not too far from my place. "Two seconds," he tells me and jumps out of the SUV. He's gone before I can protest, but I'm hesitant. Diner food? Sure, it's good for a hangover, but it's definitely my least favorite breakfast. It's heavy, greasy, starchy, and it all kind of tastes the same. _Are you here for him or the breakfast?_ I shake my head at how ridiculous I'm being. This is my chance to spend time with the guy I've been talking to every night, why get hung up on what he ordered?

Something catches my eye and I glance up to see a woman standing just in front of the SUV staring back at me. My immediate fright turns to panic as I watch her hand slip into her purse and pull out her cell phone. I quickly pull down the visor and sit as tall as I can to cover my face. The timing is terrible, as Sid has just arrived carrying two large paper bags of food. "Sid!" she shrieks with delight.

He opens the rear door and sets the bags inside. "Sorry," is all he says and his tone is full of remorse. I watch him move closer to hear, and I'm curious how he can stand it. She's nearly crying she's so excited, and I'm surprised she doesn't see how uncomfortable she's made him. He's quick to shove his hands in his pockets, removing any chance of physical contact between the two. She holds her camera out, and he smiles, but it's not like any smile I've seen before. He's stiff and hesitant, not at all like the relaxed, carefree guy I know. The encounter is over almost immediately, Sid completely unphased, me completely paranoid about where my picture might turn up.

"She was..." I search for the word, "spirited."

"Yeah," he offers me a shrug. "It happens sometimes." He's trying to explain something I understand all too well. When you grow up wealthy, super wealthy, people are always going to look at you differently. There was an expectation from friends, and friends of friends, and friends of friends of friends that you'll pay for everything, like you're everyone's personal credit card. It can shake you, wondering if people like you for who you are or if they like you for what you have. Time to change directions.

"So, I have to ask, won't this get cold by the time we get to your place?" I point to the bags of takeaway.

"Nope," he grins.

"Oh, so it's already cold," I conclude.

"Nope," he laughs and clearly I'm missing something.

"Okay..." I consider the options, but I'm at a loss. Sid drives a little fast, but I feel safe. He knows where he's going, and for a split-second I wonder if he's taking me to the rink. _His place_. I guess it's kind of his place. That seems unlikely though, considering how much he seems to value his privacy. "Do you have an apartment in the city?" the answer tumbles out of my mouth.

"Yep," he says easily. "I thought I told you that."

"Nope."

"Hmm, must have been that other girl I've been hanging out with," he says it so easily, but his words sting. I watch him, stunned silent, but his expression doesn't change. _Of course you're not the only one_. He's a young, gorgeous athlete. He probably has a steady rotation of young hot things on speed dial. "Lou?" he glances over at me and I do my best to seem nonchalant.

"Yeah?" my reply is a little too bright.

"I'm teasing you," he reaches across the armrest and his hand covers my knee. The small touch has my heart racing and I nearly jump out of my skin, but it's heavenly at the same time.

Sid's apartment is modest, not the penthouse I was expecting, but what it lacks in size in makes up for in view. The furnishings are high-end, and unlike his house, there seems to be more personal touches. The fireplace mantle is home to a series of framed photos of Sid and people I can only assume are his family. "Parents?" I ask pointing to the frame.

"Yep," he glances over and smile sweetly. Sid starts unpacking the food and when I move to join him he waves me off immediately. "Go ahead, snoop around," he tells me easily.

"I won't say no to that," I laugh and continue looking around. His place is clean, but it's not overly tidy, giving it a comfortably lived-in feeling. There's a photo of him with his arm around a young girl, and if they didn't look so similar I might be a touch jealous. "Is this your sister?"

"That's her," he grins. "Do you have any brothers or sisters?"

"A brother," I start. "His name is Jason, he's a few years older than me."

"What does he do?" Sidney seems genuinely curious, but I don't know how to answer that without getting into some details about my family I'm not ready to share.

"Investment stuff," I sound as bored as possible and it does the trick. Sid chuckles as he fusses with the last few details and then inspects his handiwork.

"There," he sounds satisfied. "Hungry?"

I was expecting typical diner food, but I've underestimated him. He places a waffle on my plate and then points to a selection of toppings. There's a berry compote, bananas with caramel and pecans, vanilla ice cream with chocolate sauce, and of course, strawberries and whipped cream. I watch as Sid carefully slices his waffle and places a generous amount of each flavor on the different sections.

"Could you pass me the bananas?" I ask sweetly, but Sid shakes his head.

"Nope, you can't pick just one," he has this down to a science. I smile back a him and he continues, "here you go." Sidney hands me the plate he's been working on and gets to work on the plain waffle. It's an adorably sweet gesture. I've never had someone dote on me before, but this feels a bit like doting.

"Thank you," I grin at him and his smile widens.

"Anytime," he replies with a wink. "So Lou, or maybe I should use your name more often, Eloise," he lazily drags out the last syllable, making me giggle. "I kinda missed talking to you last night," he admits.

"Me too," I confess. "Probably not the best habit for you to get into though," we've talked about this a few times. Our late night phone calls have been the best part of my days lately, but with all the travel Sid does and his morning skates, our schedules aren't exactly in sync.

"Probably not," he sighs. "I've tried calling you in the morning, but you don't answer!"

"I know," I cover my face with my hands in embarrassment. "It's just that the restaurant is open until two, so I usually don't get home until after three, and you call before seven sometimes so it doesn't even register that the phone is ringing," I say defensively, but it's not necessary. Sid is laughing at how desperate I am to explain myself.

"I know," he reassures me.

"And when I sleep it's like, dead to the world asleep," I continue.

"You've told me," he's enjoying putting me on the spot. "Eat," he points at my plate with his fork, and I take his lead and dig in. It's better than good. Everything works together to create a banana-split on the plate.

"This is sooo junky," I giggle. "It's good though, like dessert for breakfast."

"Oh yeah," he agrees quickly. "I could never eat like this in the off-season."

"What?" I'm confused. _Why not?_

"I have to be pretty strict when I'm not either practicing or playing everyday," he shrugs.

"Yikes," that sounds awful. "You must think I'm like a total pig then," again my mouth gets ahead of my brain. Sid laughs loudly and shakes his head.

"No," he runs his hand along my arm. "Of all the things I've thought about you, pig wasn't on the list." His words send me spinning. Sometimes he can be so unexpectedly open and it's disarming.

"What was on the list?" my voice is just loud enough to hear.

"Funny," he starts. _Funny?_ I would have preferred he start with sexy, but... "Your turn." His request throws me and I blurt out the first thing that pops into my brain.

"Sexy." _Well Lou, now you've done it. I mentally tape my mouth shut and remind myself to think before I speak._ Sid tries to conceal the smirk on his lips, but fails terribly.

"That might have been on my list too," he tells me, his hand brushing across my knee and coming to rest on my thigh. His touch makes me both excited and nervous and for a moment I wonder if he can feel me tremble. "You're nervous," his thumb strokes my leg gently and he answers my unspoken question.

"You make me nervous sometimes," I tell him softly. I chance a glance at him and his expression has changed slightly. He's..._what is that look about?_

"Eat," he glances at my plate and then his gaze finds mine again. "Then we'll see what we can do about your nerves."


	8. Chapter 8

Sid's hand slides up the inside of my shirt as my lips tangle with his. If this is his remedy for nerves then I hope I'm never cured. We're laying side by side on the brown leather sofa, his head tucked against his right arm, his left arm working it's way up my side coming to rest against my ribs. I press my right leg between his legs so our hips meet and Sid falters for just a moment. _He's nervous too_.

"Here," he curls his arm around me and easily pulls me on top of him. My elbows rest against his shoulders, my hands run through his hair, and my lips gently touch his. Sid's hands grip my hips and he loops his thumbs inside the waist of my jeans. We've only shared two kisses before today and now I'm practically dry humping him on his couch. _It's intense_. This is not what I expected, but I don't think Sid planned for this either. His beautiful hazel eyes lock onto mine as I pull back to take a look at him.

"You're good at this," I pant, leaning down to kiss the small part of his neck not covered by his sweatshirt. I feel his chest shake with silent giggles then he sighs deeply, overcome by the sensation of my warm mouth on his exposed skin.

"You too," he pulls my lips to his again, making it clear he has no interest in talking. "Hang on," Sid holds my arms tight and pushes me back so he can sit up. He quickly pulls off his hoodie and for a brief second I see a glimpse of his pale, sculpted abs. _Whoa_. "There," he leans back and pulls me with him. His fingers brush a lock of hair from my face, tucking it carefully behind my ear. I run my hands down the black t-shirt stretched across his chest and Sid's breath hitches.

"You should take this off," I suggest playfully. I'm only half-serious, but Sid surprises me by quickly pulling the shirt over his head, leaving him bare-chested beneath me. "Wow," the word escapes me before I can stop myself. He pulls one hand through my hair and the other runs up my back underneath my shirt. The feeling of his skin on mine is soft and warm, but I quiver all the same.

"Still nervous?" he whispers.

"More and more every second," I grin and he chuckles softly. He runs his fingers along the hem of my shirt and my heart starts racing, knowing what he's about to say.

"You should take this off," he's breathless. I can't place why I'm so nervous. Making out shouldn't be a big deal, but it feels brand new again. "If you want," he adds quickly, sensing my hesitation. His concern for my comfort wins big points from me and before I can give it another thought, I'm pulling the plain white t-shirt over my head and tossing it dramatically to the floor. "Oh my god," his eyes are transfixed on my chest. I giggle, a little embarrassed, but do my best to own the situation. His hands are holding my hips in place, and I reach down to pull them up to meet his goal.

Sid's fingers carefully trace the lace trim on my bra, his eyes darting back and forth across my breasts. This is my opportunity to show him that I'm more than just funny and cute, I can be sexy. I sit up, straddling him and giving him complete access to me. His eyes meet mine and this mouth opens slightly, as if he's about to say something, but he doesn't. My hands run up his arm to cover his hands and I press them down just below my breasts. He's reluctant, but complies and I grin down, shaking my head at him.

"I promise you'll like this," I tell him, my voice full of confidence I didn't know I had. His tongue darts out to wet his lips as he watches my slowly lower the delicate lace fabric to reveal my naked breasts.

"Lou," it's a quiet gasp, but it makes me blush as if he'd shouted it from the rooftops. His arms wrap around me and before I can object, he's rolled on top of me, his athleticism definitely proving an asset in this department. My hands explore his back, digging into his muscles, pulling him closer to me. He kisses me ferociously, frantically, and I lose myself completely, closing my eyes and enjoying his weight on me.

"Sid," I moan as he grinds against me.

"How far are we taking this?" his question reminds me how far we've come in such a short period of time. I don't want to stop though.

"Further," I try to pull him closer, but he resists easily.

"Seriously," he's slightly out of breath, slightly disheveled, and one hundred percent gorgeous.

"I don't know, third base?" I'm desperate to get his lips back on my skin, but as hard as I try to pull him back in, he resists.

"Really?" he sounds surprised and when I sober up enough to read his expression it's disbelief.

"Wait, what's third base to you?" I ask quickly. An embarrassed smile spreads across his lips and his cheeks flush pink.

"You know," he encourages, but I really don't. I shake my head and shrug. Sid closes his eyes and rests his forehead on my collarbone, taking a deep breath before moving his mouth close to my ear and whispering, "You know..." I can't help but laugh at how embarrassed this conversation is making him.

"I don't know!" I laugh loudly.

"Then why did you say it?" his question is more of a plea than anything.

"I don't know, you asked and I threw out a base," I tell him honestly. "What's third base?"

"Oh Lou," he shakes his head.

"Tell me!" I demand playfully.

"How about I tell you when we get there?" he suggests with a wicked grin.

"Just say it!" I laugh, squirming underneath him as I try to lift my skin from the warm leather upholstery.

"You know..._mouth stuff_," he voice drops to barely audible levels on the last part, but I manage to hear it. _Mout__h stuff_. That might be a base too far for a first makeout.

"Like kissing?" I do my best to seem innocent and naive, and it seems to work.

"No babe," he laughs and shakes his head. "More than kissing."

"I know Sid," I poke him gently, and he sighs in relief. "You're not the first guy I've..." I stop myself before I come off as something I'm not.

"Done m_outh stuff_ with?" he whispers, and the sincerity of his question makes me burst out laughing. "Lou," he pleads. "Come back to me," he runs his hands through my hair and it's a sweet touch that pulls my focus back to the present. "So, back to my original question," he's serious now.

"How far are we taking this?" I repeat his earlier words and the question hangs between us. "What do you think?"

"I like you," he tells me softly.

"I like you too," I reply sweetly.

"So...third base?" he asks carefully. I'm sure my expression gives me away. He grins down at me and lowers his lips to my forehead. "Or not."

"What about halfway between second and third?" I suggest shyly.

"Perfect," and he's off. His hands move quickly across my skin and his hips slowly press against mine. He lifts my left leg up and holds it tight to his side, pulling us even closer together. "You can always say stop," he says gently and just the thought makes my heart skip a beat.

"I want to be on top of you," I pant and in a second he has me flipped onto his chest, his lips never leaving my skin. "Oh god you're good at this," I repeat in amazement. I've never had a boyfriend who could handle me the way Sid does. He's strong. Strong enough to lift me effortlessly. _Wait...is he my boyfriend?_ No, he's not. I mentally shake the thought away, but it won't budge. _Lou!_ I scold myself. We haven't even spoken about it, let alone decided if we're a couple. _But you are topless and straddling him_. That's a good point.

"You smell so good," he says, his nose tangled in my hair. At that moment, I want to revise my decision and suggest maybe we try somewhere between third base and home plate. His good looks combined with the scorching sensuality I never knew he had, I am his for the taking.

"God I want you so badly," I blurt out the words like a confession and it takes Sid by surprise. He doubles his efforts, every kiss accompanied by a moan, every touch followed by an appreciative gaze, and it's overwhelming. My hands find the button to his jeans and he makes no move to stop me as I work to divest him of the denim barrier between us. I lift my feet to his hips and start pushing the pants down his legs, letting them rest around his ankles. I've just now noticed that Sid is busy working my pants off my hips as well, leaving us both only in our underwear. He looks up at me and his goofy smile makes me chuckle.

"Nervous?" he grins.

"With good reason," I grin back. He pulls me tight to his chest, wrapping his arms around me and holding me to him for a brief moment.

"Don't be nervous with me," his words soothe my anxiety, and I feel my shoulders relax as I recognize just how comfortable I am with this man. "Do you want to go upstairs?" It's more of a question than suggestion.

"I do, do you?" I gaze down at him as his hands move to cup my breasts.

"Yes," it's almost a growl. He kicks off his jeans and I do the same. My arms rest on his shoulders and for a few seconds we just stare at each other, the anticipation of what we're about to do making us both giddy. "So pretty," his words make me blush.

"You're amazing," I whisper, leaning down to kiss along his jawline until I reach the soft part of his neck that is so sensitive. His hands run along my backside, and I groan quietly into his skin. His fingers test the limits of the fabric between my thighs and his breath quickens. _Maybe we're not going to make it upstairs_. I kiss his collarbone and start making my way down his chest, paying special attention to his beautiful stomach. My fingers hook inside his shorts and I glance up to see him taking in the view.

"Don't stop," he begs.

"I don't plan to," I grin up at him, tossing my hair to the side and lowering my mouth to take the waistband of his shorts in my mouth.

_I'm all about that bass  
>'Bout that bass, no treble<br>I'm all about that bass  
>'Bout that bass, no treble<em>

The sound of my cell phone startles us both. _Embarrassing ringtone - check_. "Is that your..." Sid mumbles like he's been woken from a dream.

"Sorry," I scramble off him to silence my phone.

"Don't..." he objects, but it's too late. I'm already reaching for it when I see the caller ID.

"Shit!"

"Who is it?" Sid asks impatiently.

"My brother," I sigh. "I'm supposed to meet him for lunch." Sid sighs with exasperation, and I feel like a dolt. "I'm sorry," I apologize, but he shakes his head and grins.

"Don't worry about it," he tells me easily, but it doesn't make me feel any better.

"Jason?" I answer my phone quickly, hoping I can end the conversation and salvage part of what Sid and I had going.

_"We're at the restaurant Lou," _he tells me abruptly. Wow, it's way later than I thought.

"I'll be right there," I tuck my phone into my bag and turn to face Sid. He's holding my bra and has an understanding smile on his face. "I'm sorry."

"Lou, it's okay. We got a little carried away, it's probably not a bad thing we stopped," he laughs.

"I wanted to..." I don't know what I'm trying to say, but Sid seems to understand.

"Me too, babe."

"Please don't be mad," I feel like I've disappointed him, but Sid warms my shoulders with his hands and kisses me gently.

"Not even a little bit," he promises. "Where are we going for lunch?"

"We?" I stammer, completely surprised by him.

"Well Lou, you're stuck with me. I drove, remember?" He grins wickedly, knowing that he's put me on the spot. Well, two can play that game.

"Downtown," I answer brightly while we both start to dress. Sid looks like the cat that swallowed the canary, but I know something he doesn't. "We should hurry, my dad's not a patient man."

"Your dad?" The look on his face is priceless.


	9. Chapter 9

Sid and I are both much too casual for the restaurant my dad has chosen, but when you're Captain of the Penguins, no one seems to care if you're following the dress code. The staff is formal to the point of rudeness, which is typical of French restaurants. It's something I've been around my whole life, but people paying for rude service still throws me. "Mr. Crosby, I don't believe we have a reservation for you," the maitre d doesn't need to be introduced to Sidney. "Would you prefer a quiet table for two in our more private dining room?"

"No need," Sid answers easily. "We're meeting people." Sidney's casual tone is even more pronounced against the stiff demeanor of the service.

"Reservation name?" he looks at Sid expectantly, but Sid defers to me.

"Carlton," I chime in nervously.

"Ah, of course. This way please," and with that we're being escorted through the restaurant. _Of course_. The maitre d obviously assumes Sid is here for a meeting with my father. I glance over to see if Sid's curiosity has been piqued by this, but it's hard to tell if he's nervous or stone-faced because of the attention he's getting. It seems like everyone in the restaurant is staring at him. If I knew him better I might be able to decipher his expressions, but for now I just smile weakly and continue following the waiter through the dining room.

"Eloise," my father stands to greet me and the shock on his face reminds me that I'm being followed by the city's most eligible bachelor. I remember my father as a sophisticated man with particular tastes, and that doesn't seem to have softened. His suit is freshly pressed, cuff-links peeking through, tie firmly in place. This is how he dresses for lunch with his children. I move to hug him, which catches him off-guard, and the result is an awkward embrace that lasts no more than two seconds. "This is a fine restaurant Eloise," he quietly scolds me, taking in my jeans and t-shirt for the first time.

"I..." I can't explain myself, and even if I could, it wouldn't diminish the disappointment.

"Hello Sir," Sidney offers his hand to my father who gives it a firm shake.

"Sidney Crosby," to hear my dad say his name, you'd almost think Sid was a villain in an old film noir. My stomach sinks when I see a sly smile spread across my father's face. He's going to press him...hard.

"Hello Mr. Carlton," Sid doesn't try too hard, which impresses me, but I doubt his casual approach will go very far with the big guy.

"Sid, this is my brother Jason," I rest my hand on Sidney's back, just above his waist, and congratulate myself on taking advantage of the situation to initiate some physical contact. Jason is warm and has a friendly smile on his face when he shakes Sid's hand.

"Nice to meet you," Jason is so easy to get along with.

"Same," Sid replies. "Lou has told me a bit about you," we take our seats and immediately Sid's hand is searching for mine under the table. When I lace my fingers through his he quickly squeezes and it's comforting. "I got you," he leans in and whispers and I feel the familiar rush of butterflies.

"Eloise," my father drags out the last syllable, and I feel myself slowly reverting to a childish version of myself, preparing for a lecture. "How did you and Sidney Crosby come to know each other?" Typical, going straight for the throat.

"I saw Lou at an outdoor market, and then waited three months to get a table at her restaurant," Sid chuckles and I feel the pressure lift. He glances over at me and smiles, and now it's me squeezing his hand. "A buddy of mine was pretty taken with her steak rub and asked to meet the chef, and..." he pauses for a second so I jump in.

"And then Sid and I ran into each other again at the market, and we've been kind of running into each other ever since," I look up at him and his attention is squarely on me.

"Yup," Sid agrees and a face-splitting grin spreads across his lips.

"I'm telling you Lou, bottle that rub of yours. You'd make millions," Jason teases me and I roll my eyes.

"That's what I told her," Sid chimes in.

"See," Jason points at Sidney, as if two people agreeing suddenly makes it true.

"Eloise was never interested in money," my dad starts. Most people would take that as a compliment, but coming from him, it's anything but.

"I don't know Dad," Jason's voice is steady and measured. "She's running that restaurant, and it seems to be doing pretty good."

"Better than good," Sid jumps in. "It's booked solid."

"I'm sure you'd have no trouble getting a table," my dad waves off Sid's argument. "Anyway, a real opportunist would want to own the restaurant. The money always flows up my dear."

"Yes sir," and there it is. I'm twelve-years old again, listening to my father preach from his pulpit behind the Wall Street Journal.

"Tell me Sidney," now that I'm freshly defeated, my father moves in on Sid. "Do you have a mind for business?"

"Not really," he admits easily. "I'm pretty focused on hockey and when I'm not playing or training, I just want to take it easy." Relief sweeps over me when the stuffy waitstaff arrives to tell us about the lunch menu. I've lost my appetite to anxiety, which is rare for me, but everyone else pours over their menus with interest. My father orders the wine, and a petty part of me knows I could have chosen something more appropriate. "I'll have the agnolotti to start, then the lamb," Sid closes his menu and looks up at me. Of course he'd be more than familiar with fine dining, sometimes I forget this.

"Lobster salad, and the duck breast," my confidence has somewhat returned.

"I'll do the same," Jason closes his menu and winks at me. "She's the executive chef at Forks and Knives," he whispers conspiratorially to the waiter, who raises his eyebrows, surprised by this random introduction.

"Chef," he nods in my direction and I give a polite nod back. Once the orders are placed and the water glasses filled, we're left alone again and I have a chance to admonish my brother.

"As if he cares where I cook," I roll my eyes and shake my head. "Do you know how much business this place does?" I look around and the dining room is half-full. _Half-full_. We're always slammed at lunch.

"I don't know LouLou, your place was pretty busy the other night," Jason doesn't let me off the hook. I know what he's doing. He's trying to brag about me to our father, hoping he'll jump in and throw me a bone. I chance a look in his direction, but he has his sights firmly set on Sidney. I take a deep breath and sit back in my seat. It's almost comical. The attention of the restaurant in squarely on Sid, and now my father is settling in to grill him. _About what though?_

"Maybe Eloise has told you about my business," my father starts in and Sid shakes his head. "We're a private equity investment group, of course everyone's appetite for risk is different, but we try to mitigate as much uncertainty as possible."

"Sounds interesting," Sid reaches for his water glass and takes a long sip. For a second I think I've lost him to a conversation about stocks, bonds, and investment opportunities, but he squeezes my hand tightly and moves to rest his free hand on my thigh. A small gasp escapes, but no one seems to have noticed. "You okay?" he leans into me and whispers so quietly I can barely hear. _Someone noticed. _

"Fine," I smile back and him and take a sip of my water. He grins widely, and runs his thumb along my thigh, the tiny motion easing me back into myself. "So..." I search for some way to change the conversation. "How's Mom doing?" It's a pretty safe subject, she's as predictable as they come. I tune out as my father starts rattling off the list of her most recent _accomplishments_. I've thought about how I would tell Sidney about this part of my life, but I didn't imagine it would be coming as soon as it has. Is he going to think I've been hiding this from him?

"Birthday plans Lou?" Jason's question snaps me back into the present. I've never made a big deal of my birthday, and as much as I'd like to forget all about it, in four days I'll be thirty-four.

"Working," I shrug, but when I feel Sid's hand tighten around my leg I know it won't be easy to brush this off.

"Come to New York," Jason says excitedly. "I'll take you out." Sid's grip tightens again. I chance a glance in his direction, but I can't figure out what his expression means. He subtly shakes his head, telling me not commit to anything.

"I'll think about it," I smile back at my brother.

"If we're not going to see you, I'll give you your gift now," my father reaches into his breast pocket and pulls out his checkbook. _This is so embarrassing_. It would be nice to say that I tear the cheques up, that I don't even bother to cash them, but that wouldn't be the truth. The truth is that this influx of money once a year makes up the bulk of my savings account. He folds the check and passes it across the table.

"Thanks," I feel my cheeks flush red as I shamefully accept the money.

"Finally," my brother is practically salivating when the food arrives. This provides a much needed reprieve from the interrogation, and we chat casually about what we've ordered. Sid helps himself to my plate, and it might not seem to be a big deal, but it says a lot. It says that we're comfortable with each other, that he feels familiar enough with me to not ask my permission, that he's at ease. At least someone is. My stomach is still in knots, overwhelmed by the pressure this simple lunch with my father brings.

"Sidney, if you'd ever like to discuss diversifying your investment portfolio," my father hands him his business card. _Geez_.

"Thanks," he takes the card and sets it beside his plate with mild disinterest.

"Consider it," my father presses.

"To be honest, my parents handle that kind of stuff for me," he admits.

"We've worked with a lot of high-profile athletes," my dad continues, ignoring Sid completely. "You'd be amazed at how many guys just like you wake up one day to find their finances aren't what they thought they were."

I look at Sidney, his lips pressed in a hard line. I find his hand under the table and lace my fingers between his. Money talk isn't exactly polite, but it's his only interest. Well almost. I doubt he'll bring up his mistresses though. _Stranger things have happened_. "I trust my parents," Sid's voice is unlike anything I've heard from him. He's tense, annoyed even.

"They all did at one time son," my father laughs at his own joke, but the rest of us are stone faced. Sid opens his mouth and I silently plead with him not to engage in this ridiculous debate.

"Anyway, what about showing me the town tonight LouLou?" Jason chimes in, just in time. "We have a meeting late this afternoon, but what do you say?"

"Definitely," I agree easily.

"Perfect. Then we'd better get going," Jason winks and moves to stand.

"Jason, we've barely finished lunch," my father disapproves, but I mouth _thank you_, and stand too.

"Angela just sent the agenda and there's a few attachments I'd like to review," Jason waves his Blackberry and my father nods. Business coming first is something that always makes good sense to him. "Sid, it was great meeting you," Jason extends his hand and they share a friendly goodbye.

"Sidney," my father shakes his hand and gives him a curt nod, which Sid returns.

We're back in the relative safety of Sid's SUV. I would much rather face a pack of curious onlookers than continue subjecting Sid to that embarrassing display of family dysfunction. We've only been driving for a few minutes, but Sid hasn't said a word and it feels like a lifetime. "Sid..." I'm not quite sure where to start. Do I plead for forgiveness? Remind him that joining us was his idea?

"Jesus Lou, your dad is intense," he shakes his head and takes his eyes off the road to look at me. I try my best to shrink into the seat, convinced that I've completely destroyed anything we might have between us. Sid's smile puts me at ease and I can't help the nervous laugh that escapes me.

"Are you mad?" I ask quietly.

"About what?" Sid chuckles.

"I probably should have told you about my family," I sigh.

"Yeah, who knew I was dating an heiress?" Sid teases.

"Oh gawd," I grumble, settling in for a well-deserved teasing.

"So do you live in an apartment, or do you own the whole building," he continues, a sly smile creeping across his face.

"For your information, it's a condo," my voice is overly defensive, but this doesn't deter Sidney.

"Did you have one of those Scrooge McDuck golden coin swimming pool rooms in your house?" he laughs.

"Okay," I punch his arm lightly. "Enough of that."

"So Moneybags, I had fun this morning," he tells me sweetly.

"Me too," I ignore the little jab.

"If I didn't have a meeting this afternoon, I'd come upstairs," he nods toward my building.

"If you didn't have a meeting, I'd invite you upstairs," I lean across the SUV and plant a firm kiss on his lips. "Thanks for everything Sid. You handled it better than I would have."

"Call me tonight," he's a touch breathless and it's really sexy. "Should I walk you in?" he asks seriously.

"No!" I laugh. "That's completely unnecessary. Go to your meeting," this time he leans in to kiss me. "I could kiss you all day," the confession flies out of my mouth before I can stop myself.

"Pick a day," he whispers.

"Okay," I giggle. "I'll talk to you soon," I slowly step out of the car, aware of how intently he's watching me, not really wanting to leave, but what choice do I have?

"Later LouLou," he smiles as I close the door.

I'm on cloud nine as I make my way into the building. I skip into the elevator and press the button to my floor. As the elevator starts to move, I remember I have a cheque in my purse. I fish it out and hold my breath as I unfold the small piece of paper. _Ten thousand dollars_. Same as always. I really wish I could have pushed this back towards him, refused the gift, but I didn't. I remind myself that it's not like I burn through the money spending on foolish things or even taking a holiday. I'm sensible.

I tuck the cheque back into my purse and step off the elevator toward my condo. I move to slide the key into the lock, but the door swings open. _Someone's here_.


	10. Chapter 10

"Hello?" my voice is shaky and uncertain, a sound that frightens me even more. I step hesitantly into my condo, my eyes darting wildly taking in the scene. "Hello?" I call out a second time, sounding stronger, full of false confidence. I have to remind myself not to hold my breath as I move from the doorway into the living room. It's complete chaos. Everything has been ransacked, making it impossible upon first glance to tell if anything has been stolen. "Okay, the tv is still here," the sound of my newly-steadied voice strangely comforting me as I take in the damage. "Okay, not as bad as I thought," I kneel to the floor and pick up a few pages of a photo album that has been torn apart. There's a flash of movement that stops my heart until I realize it's just my hair falling in front of my face. "Oh god Lou, calm down," I try to soothe myself, but then it occurs to me that I shouldn't be steady and calm. I have no idea if I'm alone or if someone is lurking in another room.

The pages fall to the floor as I dart out of the room, back into the relative safety of the building common area. My hands dig through my purse, frantically searching for my cell phone. _Call the police, don't go back inside. _Maybe she was just incredibly quiet, or maybe it was the sound of my heart beating out of my chest that masked her footsteps, but whoever she was, the woman wearing the knee-high black boots took me completely by surprise. By the time I saw her foot flying toward the side of my face, it was too late.

One paramedic applies an icepack to my shoulder while the other dabs at the cut above my left eyebrow. It's not clear how much time has passed, how they came to find me, or what kind of shape I'm in. _Everything hurts_. Okay, let's start there. It would seem the first kick, the one that knocked me out, was far from the last. I take short, quick breaths, trying not to drift into a sea of panic. "Take it easy, deep breaths," the older of the two paramedics works to calm me, but it's not easy.

"What time is it?" of course the first question out of my mouth is the most irrelevant.

"Just after four," the younger man chimes in. I glance in his direction and for the first time I see police officers examining the scene that is my condo.

"The police are here?" and the second question isn't any better than the first. _You've been attacked and robbed Lou, of course the police are here_.

"They're going to ask you some questions soon," his words send me spinning.

"Can I call someone?" my hands search for my phone, and for the first time I truly appreciate just how damaged I am. A painful cry escapes and instinctively my free hand moves to grab my wounded shoulder, but it only makes things worse.

"Stay still," his voice is warm but firm. "You need to have your shoulder set," he explains. _Okay, dislocated shoulder_.

"How bad is it?" the first significant question leaves my mouth.

"You'll live," the younger paramedic smiles down at me, and it's comforting. The worst is behind me.

I wasn't able to answer many of the questions posed to me by the police. I didn't get a good look at my attacker, so I couldn't provide even a starting point for a description. I wasn't sure what had been taken, mostly because I wasn't exactly in any kind of condition to go take even a shoddy inventory. No enemies that I could think of. No stray keys loose in the city. No starting point. No clues. No chance of finding her.

"Do you have somewhere you can stay tonight?" the question throws me. "Your door doesn't lock and you shouldn't be alone with these injuries," there's no sympathy for me here. I guess they see a lot worse than this. "Do you have somewhere you can stay tonight?" he repeats himself, and from the tone of the gruff Officer, I can tell he's a man who doesn't like to repeat himself.

"Uh yeah, I'm good," and those words prove to be all he needs to hear. I'm alone. Well, not quite, but it I'm not being inspected or poked or prodded anymore.

The look on Jenn's face says it all. I look as badly as I feel. "Oh my god Lou!" her lips quiver and she's on the verge of tears. "What happened to you?" and the waterworks start. She flings her arms around my neck and I howl, sounding like a tortured animal. "I'm sorry! I'm sorry!" she holds me at arms length, not quite sure what she's done, but understanding that it's absolute hell for me to be touched right now.

I wake just before ten, the few hours of sleep proving to be actually kind of refreshing. Jenn's apartment is comfortable, a little warmer than I'm used to, but it's exactly what I need tonight. She's been generous enough to give me her bedroom, but I don't feel like sleeping. There's voices coming from her living room, and I can't tell at first if it's people or if she's watching something.

"She looks fucking terrible," Jenn sobs. _Okay, she's not alone in there_.

"I can hear you," I croak from the hallway, my voice failing me, but proving her point.

"You should be in bed!" Jenn yells back, but I've made up my mind and there's no stopping me. I make it into the living room before she can usher me back to bed and I'm surprised to see Liam sitting on the floor, sipping a beer and looking just as concerned as Jenn.

"Oh lass," his thick Irish accent can't disguise his concern. He's on his feet in a second and quickly moves to my side. I raise my arms in alarm, begging him not to touch me, and he holds his hands up in surrender, quietly telling me he understands. He lifts his right hand to my face and traces the freshly stitched cut. "She really did a number on you," he whispers.

"I'm too afraid to look," I admit.

"Naw," he shakes his head. "It looks good on you," he winks, making me giggle.

"Yeah?"

"Still a knockout," he assures me, but I had no idea he'd ever considered me a knockout. Frankly, I didn't think it was even a possibility.

"Your phone has been blowing up," Jenn interrupts our private moment and it hits me like a stack of bricks. _Or a high-heeled black boot_. Jason.

"Oh no," I groan. "My brother is in town. He's going to flip."

"He's not the only guy who's been calling," Jenn's voice is like a playground taunt. _Sid_.

"Thanks," I smirk and pull the phone away from her and look at the list of recent callers. Four missed calls from Jason, two from Sid.

"Oh, does our little Lou have a male suitor?" Liam presses Jenn playfully.

"Maybe," Jenn is suddenly Fort Knox.

"Maybe?" Liam's curiosity is piqued. "So Eloise, who is this mystery man?"

"Just a guy I've gone out with a few times," I shrug it off and find myself wincing in pain immediately.

"Careful doll," Liam pleads with me. "Let's get you back into bed," he motions for Jenn and she leads the way back into her bedroom. "Do you have any painkillers Jenny?"

"Not really," she admits with regret.

"There's some in my purse," I glance to the chair in the corner where I've dropped my things.

I don't feel completely in control of myself, I guess painkillers will do that to someone. It takes me a few tries to dial my brother, and he doesn't answer. I consider leaving a message, but what could I possibly say that wouldn't send him into a complete frenzy? The guilt I've been feeling about ditching him slowly leaves my body and I surprise myself when I laugh out loud. _You didn't ditch him Lou!_ What a ridiculous thought. Ditching him for what? A drugged up night in my best friends bed nursing injuries inflicted on me by..._who?_ For the first time I stop to consider who would do something like this to me.

Unfortunately, or fortunately, the painkillers are doing their job very well and I can't think straight. Working out a theory to why I was a victim of a random, or not-so-random act of violence, is a little out of my capacity at the moment. My phone vibrates, startling me slightly more awake and I answer as quickly as I can manage in my hobbled state.

"Hello?"

"Hey you," Sid's voice is friendly, bright, and warm.

"Hey," I try not to sound too much like a drunken bridesmaid, but it's a struggle. "What's going on?"

"Not too much, you're a hard lady to get a hold of. Did you get called into work?" he asks.

"No, I was just..." I stop myself before I blurt out something incredibly melodramatic. "Well, it's kinda crazy actually," I giggle, and I'm not sure why I'm giggling. Maybe it's the drugs, maybe it's my nerves, or maybe it's a combination of the two.

"Go on," he laughs.

"Someone broke into my apartment," I laugh. It's not funny, but I'm laughing.

"Oh my god, are you okay?" all humor has left Sid's voice. He's alert and full of concern.

"No actually," the laughter has calmed to a slight giggle. "When you dropped me off, the person who broke in was still there and I have stitches and a dislocated shoulder and a broken rib."

"Tell me you're joking," he's never sounded so serious.

"Sadly no," I sigh. "I'm at my friend Jenn's place and..."

"Jesus Lou, you should be in the hospital!" he cries.

"I was just about to tell you..." I start, but he cuts me short again.

"Can I come over?" he asks eagerly.

"Uh...I look not hot," I stammer and the anxiety of Sid seeing me like this sends me into a heightened panic.

"Are you on something?" his question is gentle this time.

"It's prescription Sid, I got it when I went in to get my shoulder set," I try to explain myself out of appearing like an addict.

"Good," is all he says. "Put Jenn on for me, okay?"

"Okay..." I can't hide my annoyance. I call for Jenn to join me and hand her the phone without explanation.

"...I think she's about to crash," Jenn explains and I realize I've zoned out for a few seconds. "Sure."

Sleep overwhelms me and I don't wake until late the next morning, although it feels like I've only been out for a few minutes. It takes me a few seconds to remember why I'm not sleeping in my own bed, and a few seconds longer to realize where I am exactly, but it doesn't seem to matter how much time passes...I can't explain why Sidney Crosby is laying beside me.


	11. Chapter 11

It takes me a good five seconds to lift my fork to my mouth and my hand shakes so badly that by the time the utensil reaches it's target, there's barely anything on it. I glance up from my plate and there are three pairs of eyes staring back at me. "Am I the only one eating?" I grumble and my dining companions spring into action, quickly shoveling food into their faces, tiptoeing around the obvious fact that I cannot do even the simplest task myself.

"Let me help you," Sid leans in and whispers.

"I can do it," I shake my head and set back to work. I stab a hashbrown and cringe through the most painful part of the process until the potato is at my lips. You could hear a pin drop it's so quiet. I sigh and lower the fork and let it fall with a clatter on my plate. "I'm not hungry," I announce in defeat.

"At least drink your juice," Liam pushes the glass toward me and nods encouragingly. I wrinkle my nose in disgust. Liam sighs in frustration and locks eyes with Sid of all people. They look each other over, sizing up the other one, and it's more than a little uncomfortable.

"I could make you a smoothie," Jenn offers brightly, throwing me a look that tells me she's also noticed the awkward moment between the two men. "Strawberry?"

"I really don't have an appetite," I tell her blandly.

"Come on Lou," Sid rubs my knee and picks up the abandoned fork. "Just a few bites." I look up at him, but he's not looking in my direction. There's something brewing here between Sidney and Liam, but I can't quite put my finger on it. Admittedly, I've had a crush on Liam for a long time, but Sid wouldn't know anything about that. Liam has never shown any interest in me, so I don't know why Sidney being here would bother him. I don't get it.

I obediently open my mouth and Sid smiles gratefully, slowly feeding me the now cold breakfast Jenn and Liam prepared.

"I should call Jason," I worry aloud between bites.

"Already did," Sidney tells me. "He's coming by later this morning."

"Oh," this takes me by surprise. "What did he say?"

"He's worried," Sid says with a shrug.

"We're all worried," Liam shoves away from the table and stalks off to the kitchen. Okay, so maybe I've mistaken worry for tension.

"I'd better help him," Jenn offers a feeble excuse and disappears to clean up.

"You okay?" I ask Sid with concern. He furrows his brows even further and looks at me in disbelief. His fingers carefully set the fork on the side of the plate, barely making a sound. I can hear him take a steadying breath and his hands find what might be the only part of my legs that isn't bruised.

"Lou, tell me what happened," he pleads with me, his eyes searching mine for answers. As much as I don't want to, I dive back into the details, or at least the few things I remember. Recounting the attack proves to be more emotional for me than I'd expected, but Sid's patient, wiping away the few tears that trickle down my cheek. "You must have been so scared," he presses his lips to my forehead. I nod and he frowns and shakes his head. "I'm so sorry Lou."

"It's not your fault," I tell him, but he shakes his head.

"What kind of guy doesn't walk his girl to the door?" he admonishes himself. _His girl_. I'm focused on the wrong details, but the words make my heart skip a beat.

"You couldn't have known," I smile up at him, but he's not in the mood to be let off the hook.

"If they ever find the guy who did this..." he trails off, lost in his own vengeful thoughts. I giggle nervously and feel my cheeks burn red in embarrassment. "What?"

"It wasn't a guy," I admit. "I got my ass kicked by a girl," I bury my head in his neck and feel every muscle in his body stiffen.

"Lou," he's stern and his voice firm.

"Sid," I mock his official tone, but he's not in the mood for jokes.

"What did she look like?" he's completely focused on the details now. "Think hard sweetie," he softly encourages me.

"Go easy on her," Liam has returned, his mood as sour as ever. "She needs a good rest."

"Lou," Sid won't be deterred.

"I...I don't know," I stammer. "I only remember seeing her boot and maybe..." I trail off, losing confidence in my memories.

"Go on," Sid encourages.

"Maybe she had her hair pulled back in a braid, I think. I can't be sure," I feel like I'm disappointing him. I wish I could tell him more, but the details are so fuzzy. "Everything is a blur, I'm sorry."

"You gonna hunt her down yourself?" Liam laughs at Sid's inquisition, but Sid doesn't even notice.

"If you saw a picture, would you remember her?" he suggests eagerly.

"I didn't see her face," I admit. "It doesn't matter anyway Sid, she didn't leave many clues. Other than this boot print," I point to my face and laugh, but he doesn't even crack a smile. "They pretty much told me unless she turns herself in there's almost no chance of finding her."

"Oh Lou," Sid whispers, shaking his head in disappointment.

Being a patient is strange. Everyone dotes on me, the restaurant has sent flowers, Mark phoned insisting I take as much time as I need, my brother is inconsolable, Sid is beside himself, and I find myself trying desperately to lighten the mood. Whatever I say goes, so much to my amusement, we're sprawled out in Jenn's living room playing board games. The selection is poor, Pop Culture Trivial Pursuit, Yahtzee, and Scattergories, but the competition fierce. Well between two of us it is.

"Nope, sorry Cappy," Liam takes gleeful delight in Sid's incorrect answer.

"Cappy?" Sid whispers, looking completely perplexed.

"Captain," I explain with a giggle and he rolls his eyes.

"Jason, you're up," Jenn has taken a keen interest in my brother and I'm not sure how I feel about it. Jason is young, successful, handsome I guess, but he's...well..._my brother_! "Who was the first female artist to have five consecutive number one hits from the same album?"

"Uhh..." Jason is completely out of his element. "Madonna?" he suggests hesitantly.

"Think more recent," Jenn tries her best to help him out.

"Hey!" Liam objects quickly. "No aiding the players!"

"Oh come on," Jenn waves Liam off, but he's found an unexpected ally in Sid.

"He made his guess, that's it," Sid chimes in, his competitive side rearing it's head.

"Exactly!" Liam points vigorously toward Sidney, as if the exaggerated motion will prove his point further.

"Fine, man who knew you guys were so into board games?" Jenn sulks.

"No pouting," Liam scolds her, but it's plain as day that Jenn isn't worried about winning or losing the game.

"So Jason, how long are you in Pittsburgh?" she coos and he grins back at her. _What?_

"I was supposed to leave tomorrow night, but I'm not sure how I feel leaving Lou like this," he gestures toward me, but his eyes never leave hers. Yeah, he's just overcome with concern. I roll my eyes and lean in to try to hear what they're saying, but it's all giggles and smiles and before I know it Sid is guiding me back to the present, shaking his head at my snoopy ways.

"Can you blame me?" I whisper.

"No, but I can save you from making a fool of yourself," he teases and I make a move to shove him, but end up hurting myself in the process.

"Oh!" I cry out in surprise, the attention of the room quickly focused on me.

"Easy babe," Sid gently rubs my back. "I think you need some rest," he suggests.

"That sounds really good right now," I admit and Jenn is on her feet in an instant.

"I got her Jenn," Sid motions for her to sit and he helps me to my feet. "Time for another painkiller?"

"Maybe."

"Don't be a hero LouLou," Jason calls after me as we make our way back to Jenn's bedroom and I snicker. As if there's anything heroic about me right now. I look around and feel guilty for putting Jenn out like this.

"My drama has totally taken over Jenn's life," I sigh.

"She doesn't seem to mind," Sid assures me.

"Yeah, she and Jason are getting pretty cozy," I hiss, taking both of us by surprise.

"You don't like that?" Sid asks with a laugh.

"I guess not," I laugh. "I don't know, worlds colliding, you know?"

"Yeah if my best friend was into my sister..." he's so disgusted he can't even continue. Instead he starts making the bed, pulling the sheets tight to the corner and running his hand across to smooth any wrinkles.

"You know I'm about to crawl back in there, right?" I giggle.

"Isn't it nicer to sleep in a fresh bed though?" Sid doesn't look up from his task. It's heartwarming to see how sweet this man can be. So strong his shirt can't disguise his muscles, and yet, he's nursing me like a pro. Completely unexpected.

"Hey Sid?" He glances up at me in surprise. "You're great, I hope you know that."

"Oh god Lou," he sits on the corner of the bed and buries his head in his hands. _Not the reaction I was anticipating_.

"Sid?" I close the door and move toward him.

"This is on me, this is all on me," his voice is desperate and full of remorse. He looks up at me, and I can barely believe what I'm seeing. Tears threatening to spill from his beautiful hazel eyes.

"What are you talking about?" I shake my head. "Sidney..."

"Lou, if you weren't with me..."

"If I had been home, who knows what would have happened!" I try to make sense of what he's saying.

"No Lou, don't you see?" he pleads with me, but I don't understand. "She was there because of me."

"What are you talking about?" I shake my head and move to sit beside him.

"Think about it. She breaks into your house, goes through your personal stuff, but doesn't take a thing? She wasn't robbing you, she was..." he trails off and stands quickly. "I'm so, so, sorry. You have no idea." My head is spinning as I try to make sense of what he's told me. "I had no idea she would ever..."

"Who is she?"

"Rachel Pillar," he says evenly.

"Your ex?" I can't believe I can feel jealous in this situation, but I do.

"No, she's just a fan," he assures me.

"Just a fan?" I ask incredulously.

"Well, not a typical fan. She, um, well I don't really know that much about her. She was kind of always around, if we'd go out as a team she'd be there, a few times she managed to get past security and she'd wait for players by their cars after games, show up at hotels on road trips, really innocent stuff at first. When I moved into my own place it wasn't a secret where I lived, and it got out of hand."

"Oh," I'm not completely stunned, but it's the only thing I can manage to say.

"She got into the house once and took pictures of herself in my bedroom, wearing my boxers," his cheeks redden at the admission. "She went through every room, pulling out anything personal, bank statements, contracts, photos, everything. She even took a bath," Sid sounds horrified by the list of offenses.

"Really?" I'm gobsmacked.

"Yeah," he nods. "My parents were in town and when they came home they found her asleep in my bed. She tried to convince them she was my fiancee," he laughs, but sobers instantly.

"Wow," I shake my head in disbelief.

"She took off before the police got there," he explains. "She broke a window and jumped off the roof. That's how crazy it was. I didn't want to make a big deal of it, I don't know why, but I just decided to let it go. I guess it was selfish, I didn't want more attention. We tightened security, and nothing came of it. Then she started showing up again," he sighs.

"Like the day we were at the market," I finally understand who we're talking about.

"Yeah."

"We should call the police and tell them everything," I decide quickly, standing carefully, but Sid pulls me back.

"We will, but you need to sleep," he smiles, but it's uneasy and I feel anxiety radiating from him. "And I need to stay away from you Lou."

"What?" I'm completely taken aback.

"I feel totally responsible for this," he closes his eyes and a tear escapes. "I don't want to hurt you."

"Sid..."

"She could have..."

"She didn't, and now we know and I'll be careful," I plead with him.

"Lou, what if she'd had a gun?" his question sobers me instantly. "She's unstable. We haven't even really been out in public and look what she did to you. Imagine if you were seen with me leaving a game, or at an event?"

"So let's go to the police, tell them everything and let them handle her."

"I will, but until then, until she's locked up, I can't risk it babe. You understand, right?" he begs me to get onside with his plan, but I can't. Not if the plan means us not seeing each other.

"So, we're just...over?"

"No, not over. We're just..." he considers his words carefully, "paused."


	12. Chapter 12

"This will suit her just fine," my father slips the hotel concierge what I assume is a generous tip, leaving me to take in my new surroundings. After Jason spilled the beans about what happened my father insisted I move to a safer location. Penthouse. It's plush, over-the-top formal, bigger than my condo, and has a fantastic view of the city. In fact I can see the black and red lettering of the Consol from here. _Great_. Mark phoned to let me know they've hired a temporary replacement, and not to hurry back to work. The way he worded it though, it made me wonder if my father hasn't gotten to him too. If he gets his way, I'll be trapped in this gilded cage until there's no more crime in America. "Well Eloise, if you won't come home then this is the best I can do," he announces as the concierge quietly leaves the room.

"I don't know how necessary this is," I tell him. If I'm being completely honest though, I don't want to spend the night in my condo alone. Jenn offered to let me crash at her place, but it's a small one-bedroom, and now that Sid and I are...paused, whatever that means, well I can't exactly depend on him to keep me safe at night. My father inspects the room, and I settle into the over-sized armchair near a window.

"Your mother sends her best," he tells with the enthusiasm of a telephone operator. "The flowers are from her," he points to three large bouquets I hadn't yet noticed. Jason and I lock eyes and share a knowing look. Three bouquets means she's asked the staff to send them, completely forgetting she'd made the request multiple times from different people. I guess it's nice of her anyway.

"I'll have to call her," I reply automatically, instantly regretting the half-hearted commitment.

"I'm sure she'd appreciate that."

"So Lou, want to rent pay-per-view and order room service?" Jason flops on the bed, reminding me just how comfortable his relationship with my father is and how ill-at-ease I feel around him.

"Sounds good," I smile at him and chance a glance in my father's direction. Hmmm, not a look of _complete_ disapproval. "What do you think Dad?" I decide to risk inviting him to join us.

"Alright then," he agrees easily, taking Jason and I by surprise. He walks to the front entrance and hangs his suit jacket, which is about as casual as he gets, but then he takes it a step further by removing his tie and rolling his sleeves to his elbows.

"Slow down Dad, next thing you'll be wearing jeans," the painkillers have dulled my filter and I find myself playfully teasing the mogul.

"I own jeans Lou," he smiles. Okay, he never calls me Lou, but it's kind of nice. "I might now wear them, but I do own them."

It's an odd afternoon to say the least. Jason isn't reserved in the least around our father, but it takes me some time to warm up to him. My shoulder makes it hard to do much for myself beyond the basics, and I'm taken aback at how quickly my father jumps into a parental role. He unpacks some of my things while Jason peruses the cable guide, he cuts my fish into manageable pieces when lunch arrives, and even sets a timer on his watch reminding him it's time for me to take my medication. I've never seen him like this before...concerned about more than the bottom line. Showing affection to me, his only daughter.

When Jason suggests a movie that I've seen before, I don't object, but rather take the opportunity to assess my situation. It's dramatic to say the least, an unstable super-fan hunting me down, but right now all I can think of is Sid. It's been two days and I haven't heard boo from him. When he said we were paused I didn't think that meant radio silence. Frankly, it makes me angry that he hasn't called to check in on me. Isn't he the least bit curious how I'm doing?

"What's got you worried Lou?" Jason is watching me intently.

"Nothing," I sigh.

"Come on," he coaxes. "They're gonna find her. Sidney met with detectives for almost two hours this morning, I'm sure whatever he told them will be useful." Well this is news to me. How does Jason know more about Sid's whereabouts than I do? Apparently it's safe for him to keep my brother informed, but not me. "You're mad," he observes.

"Yeah I'm mad," it comes out more forcefully than I'd like and now my father's attention has been pulled away from the movie and sits squarely on me. "When did you talk to Sid?"

"I don't know," Jason is flustered. "He texted just before noon."

"So you two are texting now?" I try to steady myself, but I feel so annoyed at both of them right now. "I'm not allowed to talk to Sid, but you two are what, like, buddy-buddy now?" Jason's brow furrows and for a second I think I've pissed him off, but then I realize he's more confused than angry.

"Why aren't you allowed to talk to Sid?" my father beats Jason to it.

"I don't know," I huff. "It doesn't matter."

"It absolutely does matter," comes his stern reply. "If it weren't for Sidney Crosby you wouldn't be in this state!" My father has let slip what he's probably been thinking for days. I have a choice now. Do I throw Sid under the bus and agree with my father, or do I save the reputation of the guy I'm kind of really mad at and stick up for him?

"He said the exact same thing," I sigh. This surprises my father, and part of me knows I'm doing the right thing. Sid didn't just bail because things got tough, even though it feels like he did. "He doesn't think it's safe for him to be around me until this whole thing is figured out."

"Well," my dad at a loss for words. Rare. "That's very sensible of him."

"We don't even know if it's the same woman," I whine, sounding like a sulky-baby even to myself. "It could have been completely random!"

"Her finger prints match Lou," Jason rubs my knee. Another bombshell. My blood is boiling now. I've had just about enough of the men in my life trying to shelter me.

"Why am I the last to know these things?" I cry out.

"I don't know Lou, I guess we're trying not to stress you out. I'm sorry," Jason offers the minimalist-sibling apology. The kind of apology that isn't even a real apology. It's more of a dismissal. It's a way of saying, I know you can't stay mad at me because I'm your brother. Well you know what? I can stay mad. I can hold a grudge better than most. "Don't get grumpy with me Loulou," he doesn't even look in my direction and he knows I'm stewing.

We watch the rest of the movie in relative silence. I've managed to balance a bowl of brownies with whipped cream and chocolate sauce at just the right angle for me to gorge myself without assistance. My sour mood isn't exactly improved by the sugar rush and stomach ache I've given myself. Every time Jason glances at his phone I wonder if it's another text from Sid. "I'm going to take a nap," I announce.

"I think that's our invitation to leave," Jason quietly informs our father, but I've heard every word. It's true, I suppose. I haven't been alone since, well since Sidney dropped me off at my condo, and I'm kind of exhausted by everyone's fussing.

"I'll phone you this evening," my father gives me a careful embrace and Jason offers me a playful high-five I struggle to return. A few minutes later I find myself alone. I'm not really sleepy, it feels like that's all I do anymore. My phone is a dangerous diversion. It's a struggle not to text Sid. Angry text Sid. Guilt text Sid. Sext Sid. _Oh Lou!_ I toss the phone on the bed and consider my options. There aren't many. Eat, watch television, stare out the window, read a magazine, and...that's about it. I flip on the television and start scanning for something mildly interesting.

It's hockey night in Pittsburgh. _Fantastic_. My will isn't strong enough to stay away, so I find myself watching an hour of pre-game conversation waiting impatiently for the interview with Sidney they keep teasing will follow. He really is gorgeous. He's all business, sitting in his gear at his locker, surrounded by reporters. Apparently the flu is making it's way through the club and the press is very curious how the Captain is feeling.

"I feel good, I think it's harder for guys with kids at home," he says with a shrug. "No one wants to bring the flu home to their families." He giggles and I can't help the smile that spreads across my face. "Not that a single guy like me wants it either," he adds with a laugh. _Single guy? _Oh, he's single now. Another news flash I missed. It seems a rare opportunity to pounce on the open door to Sid's personal life, and a few reporters don't risk missing it.

"Still single, eh Sid?" I remember Sid telling me how obnoxious he finds this guy, and right now, if I'm being completely honest, I'm kind of glad it's him bugging Sid.

"Yep, still holding out for Mrs. Right," he presses his lips into a firm line and fakes a smile. Oh, he's uncomfortable. _Welcome to my world_.


	13. Chapter 13

Social media is buzzing since Sid's confession that he's _waiting for Mrs. Right_. If only two could play that game. I could make a public announcement that I'm single too, but no one would care and frankly, I look like I've been put through a blender, so it might not be the best time to start a boyfriend hunt. A boyfriend hunt. I guess that's what single women of a certain age do when they're single. Like me. Single like me. Single-even-though-they-thought-they-weren't-single, like me. _Ugh_. It's not like I thought we were super-serious or anything, but we nearly had sex only a few days ago. Is it really that easy for Sid to turn those feelings off?

This is why having a professional life is so important. Personal drama can be all-consuming, and now it's amplified by Sid's superstar status and it's suffocating. Most of it is my own doing. It's not like Google is automatically entering his name into their search engine, but when the first dozen hits that come up are on my frequently visited sites, I know it's bordering on obsessive. It's weird though, none of this feels like him to me. The stats, the interviews, the gossip - it all feels so manufactured and insincere. None of the videos I watch seem to capture the Sid I know. There must be thousands of photos of him posing with fans, but none of them catch him with his guard down. In fact, he looks really uncomfortable in most of them. Hands shoved deep in pockets, or holding a water bottle, a tense smile. It really doesn't look like him at all...and yet, I can't tear myself away.

Even though I know better, even though I know nothing good will come of it, I'm reading every silly little comment on Twitter. Some I expected, the flood of marriage proposals, the suggestions that he's actually waiting for _Mr. _Right, but it's the tweet from the official Penguins account that really gets under my skin.

_You heard it from the man himself. #87 is Pittsburgh's most eligible bachelor_.

You would think I would throw the iPad across the room, or turn the game off, or do something to distract myself. You'd be wrong. I cannot stop torturing myself. My heart nearly beats out of my chest when I stumble across a picture of him at the farmer's market, but it was taken in the summertime before we started hanging out. Is it possible that he was there hoping to run into me? It's possible, unlikely, but possible. I examine the photo closer, making it as large as possible without distorting it, and it would probably be right around the time we met. Me, scrambling to pick up scattered peaches, totally oblivious to the handsome guy helping me.

Oblivious because I was still pining over Liam. See how boys get you into trouble? Cloud your vision so you can't even see what's in front of your face? I wonder what I'm missing out on right now because of how focused I am on Sid? Who am I kidding anyway? He could have any woman he wants, and I'm a slightly attractive cook. I work long hours, come home sweaty and exhausted and then sleep late. Hardly girlfriend material. But then again, he never asked me to be his girlfriend. We went out, talked everyday, texted constantly, fooled around a bit, well more than a bit, and we technically slept together, although nothing happened, but he never asked me to be his girlfriend. When I consider the facts, I feel pretty foolish. I was pretty invested in a guy who wasn't really that invested in me. I'm so disposable to him that he didn't even consider my feelings when he announced to the world he was single.

I'm pretty sure I get it. He's trying to reach one person with that message - Rachel. Still, it would have been nice to have a heads up. Hell, even my brother gets the odd text from Sidney, he could have sent a warning through Jason. Is that really too much to ask? I don't think so.

It's only halfway through the first period and Sid already has two assists. Maybe it was silly, but part of me thought he might be a little rattled by what happened, might even throw his game off a bit. I guess I was wrong. I flip through the channels, looking for anything remotely interesting. A show about a large family, next, a show about large families trying to lose weight, next, a documentary about jellyfish, nope, even the Food Network can't hold my attention. Reluctantly, I click back to the game and what do you know, they're showing a Sidney Crosby highlight reel.

I'm pissed off, yes. I feel abandoned, absolutely. Is he still super hot? Definitely. The admission only makes me feel worse. Am I really that superficial? His stalker attacked you hours after you were half-naked on top of him and he's left you to fend for yourself and you still think he's _super hot_? Admittedly, I'm fending for myself in the penthouse suite of five-star hotel and my dad is picking up the tab, so maybe it's not so bad.

The knock at the door startles me and for a split-second I imagine the worst and instinctively look for a place to hide. "Miss Carlton?" comes the bellboy's meek voice from behind the double-bolted door. "I have a delivery for you?" it's a statement, but his nerves make it sound more like a question.

"Just a minute," I call back, trying to steady my racing heart while hobbling to the door. I take a look through the peephole, and sure enough, it's the young man who helped bring up my luggage. It takes me longer to unlock the door, and the process isn't entirely painless.

"May I come in?" he asks politely, and I step aside in an instant. He pushes a polished metal cart a few feet into the room and sets a series of haphazardly wrapped boxes on the table behind the sofa. There must be almost twenty boxes, all different shapes and sizes, some wrapped in birthday paper, some in newspaper, and there's even a few in Christmas wrapping. The bellboy works quickly, arranging them in no particular order, but the sheer volume has me gobsmacked. "That's the last one," he says and carefully places the smallest box in my hand.

"Thank you," I tell him sincerely. "Who did all this?" and as if on cue, he reaches into his breast pocket and hands me a cream envelope. "Can I bring you anything else?"

"Uh, no..." I stammer. "I think you've got it covered," he laughs at my little joke and takes his leave. I slowly open the envelope, not wanting to let my expectations get the best of me. Inside is a handwritten note.

_Lou,_

_I'm sorry I can't be there with you, taking care of you, keeping you safe. I miss you. Every hour that passes is torture. _

_Sid_

I glance up at the mountain of gifts and do a quick count. Twenty-six boxes. The face-splitting grin I'm sporting is enormous, my faith in humanity permanently restored. I open the first box, the smallest one placed directly in my hand. A single chocolate-dipped cherry. My favorite. I choose a second box, slightly larger than the first and inside is a subtly perfumed candle. _Wow_. I don't know if anyone has ever done anything this sweet for me.

Bubble bath, body lotion, slippers, a cashmere throw, two outrageously expensive bottles of wine, Sid has really outdone himself. Not everything is extravagant though. There's a few boxes that make me laugh. One is filled with scratch-and-win lottery tickets and a penny for scratching. Another box has a stack of Archie comics. I come across a box that reads _Open Last_ and set it aside with gleeful anticipation. There's a copy of _Hockey for Dummies_ with a post-it that tells me he doesn't think I'm a dummy, but he thought I might find it interesting. I open the largest box and find an Easy Bake Oven _to tide you over until you can get back into the kitchen_. I feel tears pooling, and in this moment I completely and utterly miss Sid.

When it finally comes time to open the last box, I can't imagine anything topping the already overwhelmingly thoughtful gifts. I slowly lift the lid and carefully set it aside, suddenly a little nervous of what this final surprise might be. My fingers make short work of the mountain of tissue paper and at the bottom of the box I find a new iPhone. I turn it on and there's unread texts waiting for me. _  
><em>

_You're the only one with this number._

_It's safe._

_Text me, call me, FaceTime me, email me, whatever you want from this phone._

I clutch the phone tight to my chest, squealing in delight and twirling on the spot. Being paused isn't the same as being incommunicado. _I knew it!_ Well, I didn't know it, but I know it now and that's all that matters!

_*Sorry the chapters are so short. I thought you might prefer more frequent updates rather than longer chapters.*_


	14. Chapter 14

The private phone is the perfect gift, but the timing is horrendous. All I want is to call Sidney, hear his voice, hear what's been going on in his world for the past few days, but I can't. There's no point in calling him when I'm watching him skate around the ice live on television. My disappointment and anger has completely subsided, a flutter of elation taking it's place. Hockey usually isn't this interesting, but I'm glued to the screen. Watching him be the very best at what he does is exciting, and it's not like I'm a typical sports fan. Or even an a-typical sports fan. I guess I'm really just a Sidney fan.

The silent buzzing of my cell phone sends my heart soaring, and then sinking when I realize it's not the super-secret-Sidney phone. "Hey Jenn," I try not to sound too disappointed.

"You sound good," she's surprised, and it reminds me that I look worse than I feel. "Are you settled in?" I glance around the stuffy hotel suite and consider her question.

"Well, it doesn't feel like home if that's what you mean," I laugh. "It's not bad though. Room service twenty-four seven."

"I'll be right there!" she teases. "So listen, I know you're going to say no, but just consider it, okay?"

"Okay..." I agree uneasily.

"I know you don't really do birthdays," she starts nervously.

"Ugh," I groan.

"Just hear me out," she adds quickly. "I know you don't really do birthdays, but after everything that's happened, we want to have a little party. Just the gang," she tells me.

"The gang?" I've never heard anyone refer to our group of friends as _the gang_, but there's a first time for everything. "So..."

"Just Simon, Dave, Brent and me. And Jason if he's still in town," Jenn swoons. "Do you think..."

"Yep, I think he's staying a few more days," I roll my eyes.

"Oh, and Liam," she amends her list. "I can't believe I forgot Liam, he's been calling me non-stop for updates about you."

"Really?" I can't help the tinge of excitement this news gives me. _He's been worried about me?!_

"Are you serious? Of course! The last time we saw you, well, you weren't looking so good Lou," Jenn tells me bluntly. "And then there's the whole Sidney Crosby thing."

"What Sidney Crosby thing?" I blurt out angrily.

"You know, he's a professional hockey player. They don't have great reputations Lou," I can practically hear her frowning.

"Well..." I want to jump to his defense, but I don't know what to say. I don't really know this guy very well.

"Liam doesn't want to see you get hurt, that's all," Jenn finishes a little too brightly. "None of us do."

"I can't believe you've talked about this," I groan. "It's not like I date a lot, you guys could try just being happy for me."

"Oh Lou, it's not like that..."

"And you know what Jenn?" I'm fuming now. "You know I've been hung up on Liam for a long time, and now this guy comes along who likes me, and he's really good to me, and I don't want to go back to being hung up on someone who only cares about me when someone else shows interest."

There's a long pause as I wait for Jenn's retort. I start to wonder if I've said too much, gotten angry over nothing more than genuine concern from the few people in my life I can always count on.

"You're right," she sighs in defeat taking me completely by surprise. "Liam doesn't deserve you, and I'm glad you're over him," she says simply. I don't know if I would say I'm over him, but this little romance with Sid is certainly helping me get there. "Let's not fight about boys," she giggles and I relax immediately.

"Good idea," I concur. "After all, this could easily turn into a conversation about you and my brother!"

"Oh Jason," she sounds like she's floating on air.

"Oh god," I groan.

"Lou, I know he's your brother, but he is seriously the best sex I've had since..."

"Lalalalala!" I cut her off and pull the phone away from my ear. "I don't want to hear about my brother!" I yell, cautiously moving the phone back, prepared to toss it across the room if the offending discussion continues.

"Fine, fine," she agrees. "So, back to business."

"My birthday," I sigh.

"Yep. What do you think? You could invite Sid?"

"Um, we're not really spending time together until things calm down," I explain with embarrassment. I've just spent the past few minutes defending my budding relationship and now I have to explain that he won't see me.

"It's not like we were going to go out Lou, we'll come to you. I mean, no offense, but you're not in the best shape," Jenn's gift for direct delivery stings.

"I..." there's nothing to say. She's absolutely right. And I hate it!

"Give it a few weeks and you'll be as gorgeous as ever!" she tries to recover, but it's too late. My feelings are hurt.

"Maybe it's best if Sid doesn't see me like this anyway," I huff.

"Don't be like that," she pleads. "He likes Lou, he rushed over to spend the night with you, remember? Do you know how many guys would do that?"

"So what do you have in mind?" I'm desperate to change the subject. I feel like Sidney likes me, and generally I'm not an insecure person, but any woman would feel uncertain about herself if she found herself in my position. He has women throwing themselves at him everyday, and right now I'm more black and blue than peaches and cream.

"Nothing too crazy. Jason said you have a suite, so we thought we could do a game night," I can hear the excitement in her voice. The "gang" is really into game nights. It's something my family never did growing up, so at first it was a cheesy novelty, but I've come to appreciate them.

"Okay," I agree reluctantly.

"Really?" she squeals with delight.

"Yeah, I'm so bored," I admit.

"Okay, this is exciting," she steadies herself.

"Don't go overboard," I plead. "I'm still fragile."

"Oh you'll be fine," she assures me. "You don't have to do a thing. Just be your sweet self."

"Well, that I can do," I say confidently, making us both laugh.

"And invite Sid," she insists.

"I think he has a road game that night," I lie quickly, and for a split-second I'm kind of impressed with myself.

"He doesn't," she answers immediately. "Nice try though."

The phone call from Jenn has done me good. When I consider my puppy love crush on Liam, I'm kind of embarrassed. I had always assumed that it would end in heartbreak for me when he finally settled down and got serious about someone. Never did I suspect that it would be me moving on to someone else. It's not like my feelings for Liam have been a well-kept secret either. There was at least one drunken confession that I remember, and I barely recovered from that humiliation. The we're-better-as-friends talk the next day didn't help much to soothe my hurting heart either.

Things with Sidney have been so different. He doesn't make me feel like I'm one of the guys, he seems to enjoy treating me like a woman. The room full of gifts is evidence enough of that. I hobble back to the pile of presents and take my time relishing how spoiled I feel. The wine he's chosen happens to be one of my favorites, but I have a feeling they wouldn't pair well with my painkillers. The bubble bath is just what I need though, and it would be a shame if the chocolates went stale.

The double soaker tub fills with hot water and I slowly add a generous amount of the White Orchid Honey Blossom bubble bath. The scent fills the room as I carefully lower myself into the water. It's absolute heaven. Everything is sore, but in the tub I feel weightless and for the first time in a long time I feel relaxed. I'm not worrying about work, my love life, or my safety. My mind wanders, and it lands squarely on my happy place - food.

Recipe ideas, flavor combinations, innovative ways to prepare old standards - I'm itching to cook. As I've grown as a cook, oddly my ambition hasn't. I've always had my sights set squarely on being an Executive Chef at a top restaurant in New York. Sometimes I think having a breakfast and lunch place in a smaller city could be pretty wonderful too. Not exhausting myself every night, less financial risk, less pressure. But...I like the pressure, the risk, the physical demand of working the line.

New York is the test of a chef, but it's also a zoo. There's nothing relaxed about that city, there's no safety net. It's all or nothing. Either you sink or swim. I've worked with chefs who've opened restaurants and had to close them in less than a year. I know line cooks who've worked their tails off only to find there's no money to pay them at the end of the month. It's cutthroat. Recipes drift between restaurants and it's called a trend instead of plagiarism. A good review can make your year and a bad review can drive business away. A really bad review and you're a hipster hotspot. The city is ever-changing, making it hard to build a loyal customer base. All things considered, it's still where I'd like to be.

The sound of my phone ringing stirs me from my daydream and my heart practically beats out of my chest when I see it's my new phone. _Only one person has this number_. "Hey," I'm breathless, trying to sound casual, but completely overwhelmed with excitement.

"It's so good to hear your voice," he tells me sincerely. "How are you feeling?" His voice is heavy with concern.

"I'm great," I beam. "I've had the best night."

"Yeah?" he giggles.

"Someone sent me twenty-six beautiful presents, one of which I'm enjoying right now!" I gush, sinking deeper into the bathtub.

"Twenty-six?" he feigns surprise. "Wow, someone must really like you."

"That's what I was thinking," I tease back. I'm practically shaking I'm so excited to be talking to Sid.

"So which one are you enjoying right now?" he asks, and I can hear the smile on his face. He's proud of himself, and he should be. I can't believe with everything that's happened he's found time to do anything romantic, let alone this incredibly thoughtful gesture.

"Bubble bath," my voice is thick with suggestive undertones. "Too bad you can't join me," I add playfully.

"Wish I could Lou," he sounds so defeated, and that's not the route I'd like to go down.

"How did you pull this off?" I ask brightly.

"Do you really want to know?" he giggles.

"Yes!" I'm practically begging.

"My Mom is in town, and I asked her to buy the phones," he starts. "She called me while she was waiting for them to be ready, so we kind of did some tandem shopping for you over the phone," he explains shyly.

"That's so sweet," I whisper.

"Well, I've been so worried about you," he admits. "And now my Mom knows about you, so that might be your biggest problem," he sighs. His confession makes me laugh, but he doesn't seem to be joking.

"Yeah?" I giggle.

"She's gonna want to meet you," he warns, but I'm not worried. Frankly, I'm curious about his family.

"I'd like that," I say easily.

"Well she can get in line," he laughs.

"So you don't think you could visit now that I'm trapped in this hotel?" my question comes out desperately, but I guess I am feeling a bit desperate.

"Not safe Lou," he says softly.

"What if someone else drove you so she wouldn't recognize her car?" I suggest, but espionage isn't exactly my expertise.

"It's not that easy LouLou," his voice is gentle, but firm. "If anyone recognized me, wrote something online about me being at the hotel, who knows what could happen?"

"I hate this," I groan. "It's so boring here, and I'm lonely, and I don't want to feel like some psychopath has control over my life." All my frustrations flood out of me, and I instantly regret dumping it all on Sidney.

"Me too Lou," he says softly.

"Jenn wants you to come to my birthday party, but I guess that's out of the question," I sigh.

"Sorry," is all he says.

"I guess what really bugs me, more than anything, is that I don't know what's going on with her," I talk quickly, careful not to get too emotional. "Are they looking for her?"

"They're looking. She basically abandoned her apartment, and she emptied her bank account."

"Great," I huff.

"They'll find her. Your dad has hired some pretty intense investigators by the sound of things," Sid tells me this so easily, he must assume that I already knew, but it's news to me.

"Really?" I sound just as shocked as I feel.

"Of course," Sid sounds incredulous. "Lou, he's spared no expense according to Jason."

"Okay, can we talk about something else?" I plead. "It's makes me so anxious to think of her out there."

"You got it," he agrees quickly. "Did you watch the game?"

"I did!" I tell him brightly. "They talk about you non-stop!"

"Yeah," this fact makes him shy and it opens him wide up to teasing.

"And that Letang?" I start.

"What about him?"

"He's pretty hot when he's worked up," I say seriously, hoping the grin on my face isn't audible.

"Well he's married with a kid so don't get any ideas," he sounds a touch annoyed and I can't help but laugh. "You're putting me on," he concludes.

"Maybe a bit," I admit.

"Just wait until I get my hands on you!" he warns.

"I can't wait Sid," I tell him, and it's a sincere confession. I like this guy. I like this guy more and more every second. He's charming, but not arrogant. He's playful, but not mean-spirited. He's generous, but not flashy. Even with all the complications he's bringing to my life, there hasn't been one second where I've wondered if he's worth it. I guess that says it all. Anyone that can put me through hell and make me enjoy the ride is someone worth getting to know.


	15. Chapter 15

Freedom! That's all I can think of as I stare out the town car window as we weave through the city streets. This city that I've not fully explored seems so appealing now, and all I want is to stretch my legs. And coffee. "Any chance we could stop at Starbucks?" I ask sweetly, but the driver is unmoved.

"Sorry ma'am," comes his stiff reply.

It's a case of not knowing what you have until it's gone. The hotel is beautiful, and they have decent coffee, but there's nothing quite like Starbucks. The overpriced coffee served by sometimes friendly, more often not staff who seem too old for the job...I'm practically weepy just thinking about it. A quick caffeine fix would be nice considering where I'm headed. My second police interview in as many days. I literally remember nothing from the attack, which seems to infuriate the detectives, and even though I explain that I too find the situation unbearably frustrating, it falls on deaf ears. I'm sure it doesn't help that my father has hired a private firm to do their own investigation. A bit of friendly competition this is not.

The morning goes as expected. A series of questions I can't answer. Me, apologizing profusely, the detectives pressing me even harder to no avail. It's a surprise when they show me a series of photographs of Rachel. I guess I was expecting some kind of cracked supermodel, a gorgeous, leggy brunette with a mouthful of teeth that would make Miss America envious. I was wrong.

Rachel is older than I expected, probably in her forties. She's overweight, not terribly so, but not the fitness bunny I had anticipated. Her hair is pulled back into a severe bun, and to be completely frank, she is void of any feminine characteristics. Competition is what I was expecting, but this is who she really is. A troubled woman who has become fixated on a public figure. For the first time, I actually feel sorry for her.

"How old is she?" I study the picture carefully, looking for any clue that might lead us to her, but it's futile.

"Forty-three," the detective answers immediately. "Never married, no children."

"Sad," I think aloud. It really is sad. I remember the things Sid told me about her, breaking into his house, wearing his shorts, taking a bath, trying to convince his parents that she was his fiancee. Then, to top it all off, she jumps out a window to escape. "I wonder what she did in my place," I consider the possibilities, open to any information they might be willing to share.

"Hard to say," is all they offer.

Maybe she went through my personal things, looking for details and photographs. She might have tried on my clothes, curious how our bodies matched up. I doubt she'd take a bath, the appeal of sharing an intimate space with Sidney is one thing, but with her perceived enemy is quite another. She didn't jump out a window, instead she gave me a swift kick to the face and took off. You wouldn't expect it by looking at her though. She's so...generic. Forgettable even. Nondescript. _Hard to find_.

My afternoon is spent at the doctor's office, and she's quite pleased with my progress, even suggesting that I increase my activity level. "I like the sound of that," I tell her. She gives me some simple exercises to do, and insists on showing me three times over. She leaves the room and I take the opportunity to fire Sid a picture.

_"Doctor says I'm coming along nicely!"_ I wait patiently, but he doesn't reply. Then I wait impatiently. The doctor returns and I'm forced to tuck my phone away, which isn't necessarily a bad thing. Without work or basic freedom to run errands and leave my room, I'm basically glued to this device hoping to hear from Sid. Not a good look on anyone, but it's not like I have much else going on at the moment.

"Are you up for some rehab work in the pool?" she suggests brightly.

"Sure," I shrug easily. "Whatever you think will help."

"I understand you have some security concerns, but I'm sure we can accommodate them at our facility," she doesn't even look up from her notepad. High-priced doctors treat high-paid patients. I'm sure a nobody like me is a nice change of pace for her.

"Thank you," I sigh.

"We'll get you set up and you can start tomorrow," she finally makes eye contact and gives me an bright smile.

It's my birthday and I'm up at 5:26am. Not a great start. The front desk is diligent with their wake up calls and follow up calls to ensure that I actually get out of bed. I've told them more than once that there is no need, as I have a perfectly good alarm on my phone, but as usual, the man footing the bill's opinion trumps mine. I hobble into the bathroom and struggle into my bathing suit. I slip on some yoga pants and a t-shirt, pull my hair back and head out, turning back to brush my teeth.

I look like hell, it's my birthday, it's not even six in the morning, and I look like absolute hell. My unwanted bodyguard walks me as far as the change room and tells me to wait outside while he sweeps the room. I'm finally invited in and when he makes absolutely no move to leave, I could not be happier with my decision to change at the hotel.

The pool is still, begging for me to dive right in, but it's a rehab pool. Shallow and narrow. "Eloise?" the echoing voice startles me and I glance to my left to see a grey-haired older man wearing a bright blue golf-shirt, track pants, and sneakers walking toward me. "I'm Tom, we'll be working together today," he explains.

"Hi," I feel very under-dressed. "Should I get in?"

"We're just waiting on one more, and then we'll get started," he tells me with a smile. I don't know what's worse, one-on-one, or a less than private session. "Here he is," he waves across the room and I turn to face the men's locker room.

"Sid?" it's barely a whisper, but it's still the truth. He makes quick work of closing the space between us and thankfully Tom is turned away when he reaches me. I know I look completely stunned, but the shock is overwhelming. "What are..." before I can get the question out, he's covering my lips with his.

"I had to find a way on your birthday," he winks at me.

"So Sidney, it looks like we'll be working out some tension in your lower back?" Tom pours over his clipboard, unmoved by Sidney's superstar status.

"Yep," Sid replies easily, but his cheeks redden. I guess tension in his lower back is the best he could come up with. Not specific enough to be identified as faking an injury, but problematic enough to warrant some rehab.

"And Eloise," he flips through his pages.

"Lou," I correct him.

"Oh, okay. Lou. I like that," he beams back at me. "You've injured your shoulder, collarbone, ribcage, back, and left hip," he rattles off the list of injuries and I nod. "Let's start with your shoulder today, and we can do some partner work in the pool," for a brief second I think he means me and Sidney, but Tom quickly pulls off his shirt revealing a much different body-type than Sid's. "Lou, do you need help getting in?" One look at the tuft of white chest hair staring back and me and I wave off his offer.

"Should I get in the pool too?" Sidney's question is more like a suggestion.

"Let me get Lou started and then you can join her," Tom explains. I've never learned faster in my life. Every motion he takes me through is memorized and replicated to perfection. "You're picking it up quickly," I've won Tom's approval and hopefully that means he'll give Sid and I some alone time. "Come on in Sidney," Tom waves him into the pool.

"Great," Sid's not even trying to disguise the grin on his face. No one has ever been this excited about rehab. I wish I looked cuter, less just-rolled-out-of-bed and more bedroom bombshell. Tom guides me toward the ledge and stretches my arm out to grip the edge of the pool. The water glides off my skin and the large bruise on my bicep is a painful shade of purple. I'm not sure lip gloss and a hairstyle could remedy that.

"Slowly push yourself away from the wall, don't arch your back, and then walk back and do it again," Tom instructs. He's got a grandfatherly quality about him, it's very calming. He leaves me to my task and moves on the help Sid. The thought makes me laugh. The small motion, simply pushing away, has me wincing in pain, but my shoulder doesn't feel as sore as it did yesterday. That's got to be a good sign.

I watch Sidney out of the corner of my eye, and he's all business. Maybe he really is injured? None of this would be new to him I suppose. You don't get to be an elite athlete without some bumps and bruises along the way. Tom quickly runs out of instruction for him, Sid taking the lead with his "recovery". He's shirtless and wet, his hair a gorgeous mess of tangles, and I'm obviously distracting him too. "I think I'll do some wall-work with Lou," Sid announces and before Tom can object, he swims toward me, a lopsided grin on his face, like he knows he just got away with one. "Hey beautiful," he whispers.

"Hey handsome," I reply, suddenly feeling shy and searching to see if Tom is watching. He's not, and for the first time in what feels like a long time, I get to spend some time with Sid. "You're just full of surprises," I beam at him. "You're always one step ahead."

"I guess I have Jason to thank for that," he admits. "You're feeling okay?"

"Better each day," I shrug. Sid moves closer toward me and gently holds my waist with both hands, helping me to stay horizontal in the water. I feel a bit self-conscious, battered and bruised and in a bathing suit. Not exactly how I pictured spending my birthday, but now that Sid is here, I kind of like it. More than kind of. "How's your back?" I ask with a cheeky smile.

"So sore," he exaggerates and grins back. "I might need a few sessions."

"I support that," I reply immediately. "What have you been up to?"

"Working," he shrugs. "Not much else to be honest."

"It's kind of funny to call what you do work," I laugh.

"Best job in the world," comes his easy answer. "Go slower," he corrects me, reminding me of my true reason for being here. "Trust me, do the rehab right the first time, or this will just nag you forever."

"Okay Sid," I roll my eyes and the grip on my waist tightens and he pulls me quickly underwater and up again. I gasp loudly, sputtering water and trying not to choke while I catch my breath.

"Sorry about that," he feigns surprise. "I slipped."

"If you try to drown me again I'll call Tom over," I warn him playfully.

"Drown you? I'd barely call that a dunk," he giggles. "Best birthday present you ever got?" he changes directions quickly and it catches me off-guard.

"I don't know," I hesitate. "My parents bought us a lot of over-the-top gifts," I explain.

"Not the most expensive, your favorite," he encourages.

"When I was seven, Jason gave me a kitten," I smile remembering how excited I was. "A family was looking for homes for a litter and he grabbed one for me."

"What did you name it?" Sid prods me to continue.

"Puddles," I sigh. "I loved that little beast. She was wild though, a little bit nuts really."

"So she fit right in," he teases, but it's not far from the truth. I toss him a dirty look anyway, but my acting isn't very convincing. Instead he continues grilling me. "What became of Puddles?"

"She's a doctor now," I say seriously and he laughs. "I don't know, what ever becomes of kittens? They become cats and then inevitably the worst happens and you regret ever loving them because they're directly responsible for the worst day of your life, and then you slowly get over it and find that you can enjoy remembering them instead of crying every time you see a Meow Mix commercial." My little ramble about my pet sends Sid into a fit of giggles and we've accidentally caught the attention of Tom.

"You two are having fun, rehab shouldn't be fun," Tom teases and moves toward us. Sid doesn't move though, apparently not concerned if Tom sees his hands on me or not. "How are you making out Lou?"

"Good so far," I tell him, but I haven't really been paying attention.

"I'll leave you to it then," he smiles and walks away.

"How well do you know Tom?" I blurt out.

"We go back a little ways," Sid admits.

"Sometimes I feel like a chess piece that you're all moving around to suit your own devices," I shake my head.

"Are you mad?"

"About this? No," I smile at him. "I'm so happy we can see each other. It's more like my Dad and Jason making decisions for me without asking what I want first, you know?"

"Oh Lou, story of my life," Sid laughs.

"Really?" this takes me by surprise. "Like what?"

"Almost everything," he tells me seriously. "When I was a kid, I was good enough to play in an older age group, so my parents pushed for that. I wanted to play with my buddies, but they never asked me. When I had a chance to go away for school and focus on hockey, they were packing my bags before I'd even gotten used to the idea. Then I went to play in Quebec, and I guess by that time I just accepted that wherever I was being sent was where I needed to be." He doesn't sound even slightly annoyed, but I'm irritated for him!

"Didn't that bug you?" I ask incredulously.

"Nope," he shrugs. "It all worked out, and I always trusted they knew what was best for me. When I moved to Pittsburgh I lived with the team owner and his family for a long time, and that was harder to deal with. I had money and wanted independence, but they wanted me to be focused on hockey all the time."

"You are focused on hockey all the time."

"Not all the time," he grins. _Okay, he's right_. "I was a big investment and they wanted to make sure they could get the most out of me, and trust me Lou, it hasn't been long since I've been able to start living my own life. I know all about people making decisions on your behalf. I get it babe." _Babe_. I could float away at the sound of that.

"Okay, you're turn," I regain my composure. "Best birthday present ever."

"Easy, hockey sticks," he chuckles. "Best birthday gift, best Christmas gift, best anything gift...hockey sticks."

The morning moves by too quickly, our romantic rendez-vous interrupted occasionally by Tom. It's nearly seven-thirty, and every second that ticks by brings us closer and closer to goodbye. "Come over," I practically beg.

"You know I would if I could," he tells me.

"It's so early, I'll sneak you in and out before anyone could see," I suggest sincerely, but he just laughs. "We met here though," I huff.

"You need a doctors' note to get in, and there's nothing suspicious about me being here," he tells me.

"Where else wouldn't be suspicious?" I expect him to dismiss my question, but he considers it carefully.

"Let me see what I can figure out," he kisses me on the forehead and our time is up. All this waiting for someone else to make a move, make a decision, figure things out. I'm feeling stronger every day, but so completely helpless at the same time.


	16. Chapter 16

There are perks to living in a hotel, even if it doesn't feel like home. If I were having friends over to my place, I'm sure I'd stress about ensuring every inch was spotless, but it's already taken care of. I'd worry about having enough food and wine, but that's the beauty of room service. My friends are bringing the entertainment, so I have nothing to do but primp. In fact, I have hours to lounge around, apply makeup, fuss over my hair, try on everything I own and agonize over accessories. It's like an inside look into my mother's life and it's...incredibly dull.

After spending the morning in a pool, I don't know how much more soaking my skin can take, but my hair is in desperate need of good shampooing and deep conditioning. Chlorine is murder on tresses. One warm shower later and I'm right back where I started, flipping through the television, only this time I'm wrapped in a robe with my hair in a towel. Progress.

Nothing can keep my attention. I keep reliving the morning over and over again. He found a way to see me, which makes my heart soar, but it's so short-lived and unpredictable. Sidney lives a very private life in the public eye, and I know that because for the past few days I've been trying to track his every move through social media. I know what time he arrived at the rink, I know that him and a teammate picked up sandwiches at Whole Foods, I know that he was spotted _alone_ at a coffee shop this morning.

I grab my iPad and check for any recent spotting. It's immature and bordering on sad, but I'm curious. A quick search and I've found him. There's a flood of photos and sightings of Sid and a buddy at a nearby restaurant. I wonder what he'd do if I walked in? I'd have to find a way out of the hotel first, but would he react? Would he acknowledge me? Introduce me to his friend? We're in a weird place. Paused before we ever really started, and now he's making efforts to see me and be sweet to me, but part of me wonders how much of that is because he likes me and how much is because he feels guilty about everything that's happened.

I toss the iPad to the side and stretch out onto the freshly made bed, pulling my cell phone off the nightstand. It's only been a few days, but part of me wonders why things haven't fallen apart at work. They've told me it's all under control, but part of me wonders if that's the case. I dial Mark's number from memory and wait, my heart racing in anticipation.

"What?" Mark's tone is annoyed, which somehow reassures me.

"Hey Mark, it's Lou."

"Lou!" he's suddenly sunshine and rainbows. "How ya feeling?"

"Better all the time," I reply quickly. "How's the kitchen?"

"Well..."

"What?" I interrupt anxiously.

"Everything is fine, it's just..." Mark searches for the right word, but I don't have any patience.

"Are reservations down?"

"Barely," he admits.

"Food waste?" I cringe, not entirely sure if I want to hear the answer.

"It's not great," he sighs.

"Okay. What's the plan?"

"Don't freak out," he tries to calm me, but it actually makes me more nervous. "We're going to post the job."

"No," I'm firm.

"We'll make it clear it's term only, not a permanent position, but Lou, the kitchen needs a chef."

"No way," I'm shaking my head, like it matters through the phone. "Mark, that's my kitchen."

"Lou..." he whines, but doesn't continue. Instead we both let the silence swell between us, considering if there are any other options, any way out. I absolutely do not want another chef in the kitchen, leading my staff, changing the systems we have in place, playing with the menu...

"Absolutely no menu changes," that's the line I'm drawing. I can live, begrudgingly, with everything else.

"Of course," I can hear the relief in Mark's voice.

"And I'd like to be involved in the hiring process," I test the limits of our strained agreement.

"I've thought about this," Mark starts hesitantly. "I'm not sure that's a good idea. We need to pick the best candidate, and if you're choosing someone you perceive to be your competition..."

"You said it would be a term contract," I hiss.

"And it will, but I know you Lou." He's right. "Three months, tops."

"Three months?!" I shriek in horror.

"That's the timeline your..." he trails off and my worst fears are realized.

"Go ahead," I roll my eyes and hold my breath.

"Your father said three months minimum," Mark finishes. I hate that he's interfering in my professional life. It's already completely annoying and infuriating that he's basically in control of my personal life, but now he's taken it upon himself to determine when I can return to work, and to notify management without even discussing it with me. My blood is boiling.

"Call me with the name when you hire the chef," I don't even wait for Mark's reply before hanging up. I've completely had it. The expansive penthouse that is my prison is now claustrophobic. If I have to spend one more minute inside this life designed by my father I'm going to lose it completely. Instead of spending the next four hours grooming myself for another night trapped in this cage, I need some air.

I slip on some clothes, some shoes, grab my purse and I'm out the door. "Miss?" the security guard sitting on the stool outside my room is clearly taken aback, but I just wave and keep walking. "Miss? Miss?" he calls after me, but I continue toward the elevator, not missing a step. "Miss, you can't leave," he informs me.

"Oh, I can't?" I bark. "What are you going to do? Restrain me? Last time I checked this was a free country and I'm free to go where I please, whenever I please." He can't argue this, instead he pulls out his cell phone and starts dialing. The elevator doors open and I dart inside, not needing to hear the conversation that's about to take place. A desperate man afraid of disappointing my father, worried that me taking off will cost him his job, and suddenly I feel guilty. I hold the elevator doors from closing and step back into the hallway. "Hang on," I call toward him. He freezes on the spot, still holding the phone in his hands.

"Yes?"

"I'm going to leave either way, but if you make that call it will cost you your job. Why don't you just take a break instead? I'll be back in a bit, no one needs to know," I offer.

"Miss, your father has instructed me..."

"I know," I interrupt. "That's not something I agreed to, and you can't really enforce it, so I think this is your only real option." He considers my words, a hopeless look on his face. "I'll be careful. Don't worry." I step back inside, take a deep breath and let the doors close.

The city is loud and crowded, making it easy to blend in without too much effort. I'm not really sure where I'm headed, but I continue walking with purpose. It's not exactly wandering, subconsciously I know exactly where I'd like to go, but I don't really know the way. Walking past a storefront I catch a glimpse of myself and I look a little frantic. If I'm going to stage a run-in with Sid, then I'm going to need to at least appear casual. I pick up a coffee to go, then resume the path to the restaurant only a few blocks away.

_How am I going to explain this?_ That's the hard part. I guess it's not so wild, my hotel is nearby, and he probably wouldn't jump to the conclusion that I tracked him down via Twitter. It's not _quite_ stalking, but it's close. A shudder runs down my spine and I realize that if it was this easy for me to find Sid, then there's a good chance Rachel would know his whereabouts too. I should be terrified of her, I should run back to the relative safety of my hotel room, but then again, finding her is the goal. If she rears her head, this nightmare could end.

There's a small crowd gathered outside the restaurant, but instead of striding inside and strutting straight up to Sid, I panic and cross the street. Now I'm watching the spectacle from a bench. My eyes dart around, frantically searching for any sign of Rachel. There's a woman who's about her height, but she's quite a bit older and thinner, and frankly she doesn't seem one bit concerned with what's happening nearby. I spot Sid's SUV, and my heart races. _What am I doing?_ This is crazy. I'm acting crazy. I stand to leave, but the surge of movement toward the restaurant and the wild shrieks glues me to my seat.

There he is. It's hard to get a good look, but the Reebok hat is kind of a dead give away. He patiently signs autographs for a group of young boys, who beam up at him. The few times I can see Sid's face he's smiling down at them, nodding once in a while, and chatting a bit. Next up are some a few guys Sid's age, and it's kind of strange to watch. They act cool, but as soon as Sid's back is turned, they're falling all over themselves. Jealousy overtakes me when I see two beautiful women sandwich Sid and snap selfies. It's all I can do to keep myself from walking over there. A few minutes pass and Sid is finally free to leave. I watch him step into his SUV and the show is over.

_What am I doing?_ I have no idea what I thought would come of this, but I'm disappointed. A normal moment, a normal moment with the guy I like. That's all I want. My phone startles me and I dig through my purse, holding my breath, desperately hoping it's not my father.

_Walk to the Starbucks on Market Square. I'm parked outside._

Sidney. My blood races through my veins, and my feet move faster than I knew possible. He said walk, but I'm running. When I get close enough to see his SUV, I slow to a walk and try to steady my breath. My heart is beating so fast I think it's going to fly right out of my chest. How will he react to this? Will he be angry? Will he tell Jason? Or worse, my father? Will he scold me? Will this moment of insanity totally spook him?

Suddenly I'm not so eager to reach him, but my feet keep a steady pace and as I approach the vehicle, the passenger side door flies open. I hesitantly climb in and the vehicle starts moving before I've even shut the door.

"You're crazy," Sid laughs and all my fears melt away. He drives fast, putting as much space between us and his last known location as quickly as possible. Sid weaves through the street, and I wrack my brain trying to think of something to say, trying to dream up some reason why I'd be hanging out near his lunch spot that would make sense, but instead I focus on the feeling of his hand on my thigh.

He pulls into a secure parking lot, an overhead door closing firmly behind us. "Where are we?" I think I know the answer, but it's all I can think of to say.

"What were you thinking?" Sid shakes his head, but the smile on his face tells me he's not really upset. He leans across the vehicle, takes my head in his hands and presses his lips hard to mine. "Why is it so hard to stay away from each other?" he laughs.

"No idea," I tease and pull him close to me again. "How safe is it here?"

"Safe," Sid assures me, but I can see he's not convinced. "Well, maybe for a half-hour?" he suggests.

"I'll take whatever I can get babe."


End file.
